


lilacs for lucy

by tmylm



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Bechloe AU, Eventual Smut, F/F, death mention, eventual angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:22:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22075423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tmylm/pseuds/tmylm
Summary: After a nasty breakup sees her starting over in a whole new place, a peppy stranger withabsolutely no hint of a dark past..helps Beca to realize very quickly that she’s out of her depth.
Relationships: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell
Comments: 109
Kudos: 192





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just the first chapter, more of an introduction to the characters and a scene setter. Warning that it's going to get a little darker in coming chapters! While this is rated G, I'm going with M overall, because I know what's coming :)))))

Music. Rhythm. A beat.

That may be Beca’s life, it may revolve around sound and verbal exchanges, but truth be told, she has never minded silence. If she was to be honest, in fact, she would say that she even kind of enjoys it sometimes. Beca is not the type of person to consider the idea of loneliness so deeply, and could very well be described as something of an introvert at times. So, Beca doesn’t mind her own company, doesn’t mind a sense of quiet. She would often refer to it as something akin to serenity, in fact. But it is weird right now, she has to admit; as she pushes open the heavy door to her new apartment, immediately noting that the relatively plain furniture is not something she would’ve generally picked out herself (when it comes as part of the apartment, though, and she has nothing else to replace it with, who is she to complain?), it just strikes her as _weird_.

And why wouldn’t it? While Beca can handle her own company, while she even kind of _likes_ her own company, she has never actually lived alone before. Growing up an only child, half the time in a single-parent household for the first little while, she has experienced nights home alone, but she has never truly _lived_ alone.

It is like a movie reel inside of her mind, the way Beca is transported so vividly back to her last new place as she sets down her large duffle on the arm of the couch. Almost like it is happening so plainly in front of her, she feels the now phantom strength of Markus’ tan, bulky arms wrapping tightly around her small waist, and in the depths of her unwanted memory, Beca giggles in a way she no longer recognizes, before Markus sets her delicately down onto the arm of the couch. His large hands plant down either side of her legs, and there is a strong sense of protection that Beca has never necessarily needed before, but that she welcomes now with open arms.

“Home sweet home,” Markus proudly grins; it is that same pearly grin that Beca has found herself falling more deeply in love with each time she has seen it. He leans forward then, and despite Beca having reached up to wrap her arms tightly around his neck, the force of his body against her own pushes her flat onto the couch, with Markus moving seamlessly to hover over the top of her.

“You’re so weird,” Beca smirks the most playful smirk, her face tilting to plant a gentle peck to the dark stubble shadowing his defined chin.

“You agreed to live with me, weirdo,” Markus easily responds without missing a beat, that smug look on his face so familiar, so much like _home_ to her.

His face tilts, full lips ghosting lightly against her own...and Beca finds herself grunting in unwelcomed thought. Harshly, she blinks away the unwanted memory, the one that she is sure is there only to tease her now.

Beca has to admit, they had been happy then. She has spent so much of the time since, however, wondering what went wrong, _when_ it all went wrong, that by this point, she is tired. Beca is so, so tired, so done with questioning the past, that she decides it is no longer healthy to dwell. Because for every positive memory, there is a negative one to overpower it, and this move is not about focusing on the negativity. It is quite the opposite, in fact; it is a fresh start.

The sound of her duffle beginning to slowly slide off of the arm and onto the couch cushion catches her attention, almost jolts her back to reality. Beca’s dark brow arches as she simply watches, the thought of going back out to her car to retrieve the rest of her belongings overly exhausting to her after her drive from New Jersey—people complain about New York drivers, but they have evidently _not_ driven through Jersey City before.

Regardless, she has to find at least some semblance of energy, if only to go and grab Murphy from the passenger seat. So, it is with a heavy sigh that Beca drags her tired feet toward the open door, glancing back momentarily into the stillness of her new apartment. “Home sweet home, huh?” she mumbles quietly, almost bitterly even, before trudging back outside and into the cold Rhode Island winter air.

The thought of unpacking only exhausts her further.

* * *

Decidedly, Beca notices right away, Murphy does not love his new home. He hates his cat carrier with a burning passion—Beca would go so far as to say that he hates it even more than his nemesis, the vacuum cleaner—but he opts to remain within the familiarity of its three walls over eagerly prowling out to explore the way she had assumed he would. Though, Beca is no animal expert. Truth be told, she had never even wanted the damn cat in the first place, but he had seemed like much less of a commitment than an actual baby, so to steer Markus’ mind from the idea of expanding their family with a child, she had been onboard with the cat idea. Somewhere along the way, perhaps an accumulation of all of the evenings Beca would wake up on the couch with the cat curled up comfortably on top of her, Murphy had grown on her, and when she’d yelled _“I’m taking the cat!”_ during one of she and Markus’ final fights, he hadn’t argued.

So, maybe Beca isn’t _totally_ alone in a whole new home; Murphy is with her. Though, he does not seem to be thanking her for hauling him from the familiarity of their old place, and Beca cannot help but be at least slightly concerned.

“Come on, buddy,” Beca says through the softest sigh. She finds herself crouching down beside the open cat carrier in an attempt to show him she is there, that this isn’t as strange a circumstance as he may think. Murphy is curled in the furthest corner, his favorite stuffed crocodile toy placed very suspiciously like a shield in front of him, and all Beca can seem to coax from him are a series of defiant meows, accompanied by little to no movement.

“It’s really not that bad out here. And there are a ton of boxes...you love boxes, right?” Beca tries soothingly—as soothingly as she knows how, at least. “Plus, grandma is right around the corner…” She pauses at that, nose wrinkling at the sound of her own words. “Grandma? Seriously?” All things considered, she decides that maybe she can forgive herself for acting a little crazy, but still, she proceeds to shake her head in self-disapproval.

Somewhat defeatedly, Beca eventually stands, hands balled into fists that plant casually against her hips, and takes a moment to allow her gaze to scour the unfamiliar room. There are boxes, two suitcases—all untouched as of yet—and her trusty duffle bag. All of those things to climb on should be like Heaven for a cat, right?

“How about a treat?” Beca attempts halfheartedly, tired eyes darting hastily between the unopened boxes. She doesn’t know which one Murphy’s things are actually in, but she distinctly remembers packing them, at least.

_No_ , she remembers, _they’re not in a box_. They’re in a bag, a large one, and an uneasy feeling creeps into Beca’s stomach as she scans the living room for any actual sight of it. The car is empty by now, she has double and triple checked, and Beca hasn’t even explored further than the living room yet, so the things laid out before her, that’s everything.

“Seriously?” Beca grumbles under her breath, padding quickly toward the couch to tug open the zipper of her bright blue duffle. She is met with the sight of her equipment—headphones, laptop, etc.—but no sign of cat junk.

And then it dawns on her, the memory of the large, dark green bag sitting on the kitchen table. Beca had admittedly loaded the car in a hurry, wanting to be out of the apartment by the time Markus arrived home so as to avoid the inevitably awkward encounter that would surely follow. She had planned to run back in for the bag, she really had. But then her father had called, and Beca had climbed into the driver’s seat, distractedly tugging her seatbelt into place and paying somewhat idle attention as she’d been warned, for the millionth time, to drive safely, and which route would be the best to take.

“Shit,” Beca breathes through a defeated sigh, hand rising to run her fingers through her matted hair. With literally nothing for him, she has bigger problems than needing to coax Murphy from his carrier with the promise of his favorite _Temptations_. He has no food bowl, no water bowl, no _food_. It is like he can sense it, the way he meows loudly from inside of his carrier, and Beca’s head tilts back in frustration at the very idea of having to drive anywhere else right now.

Needs must, of course, and a deep frown sets onto Beca’s tired features as she slips her phone from her back pocket, pulling up the Maps application in search of the nearest PetSmart. It is pretty close by, she finds, though it still takes her a large amount of effort to trudge back toward the carrier and close the mesh door across the front. “Come on, I guess we’re going shopping,” she mutters quietly, carefully picking up the carrier and heading back outside with her fingers wrapped tightly around the handle.

In hindsight, Beca could’ve and probably should’ve left Murphy home to get used to his new surroundings. If she had, maybe he would’ve finally dared to step out from the carrier by the time she returned home. However, the idea of him doing so without her there to reassure him had made her feel guilty, so Beca straps the plastic box into the passenger seat, and unfortunately for Murphy, it seems that he is evidently coming along for the ride. He doesn’t seem to mind nearly as much as he had when she’d fastened him into the car back in New Jersey. In fact, he is sleeping by the time she pulls into the parking lot of the pet store, though the sound of the engine shutting off seems to startle him, and Murphy is right back to meowing as Beca unclips her seatbelt.

“Hey,” Beca frowns, fingers wrapping securely around the handle once more, “We’re here for _you_ , okay?” She realizes, of course, as she climbs from the car with the cat carrier held closely by her side, that maybe her reasons for bringing Murphy on this little outing weren’t _entirely_ for his benefit; maybe Beca kind of needs the company, too.

It is still early afternoon. At this time, her local PetSmart back in New Jersey would’ve been buzzing with people and their leashed dogs eagerly exploring the aisles, but Beca finds, as she enters through the sliding doors, that this place is basically dead. Besides a few quietly working staff members rearranging and organizing the shelves, and one or two shoppers silently perusing, the place is distinctly much quieter than Beca is used to. Almost eerily so, in fact.

All things considered, it is somewhat startling, the sound of an overly cheerful voice loudly greeting her with a sudden, “Hi there!”, so much so that Beca finds herself literally jumping on the spot.

It seems that the voice’s owner, donning a PetSmart uniform and a name label that Beca doesn’t get the chance to properly inspect, has noticed her unintentional fright, and Beca sees the way her teeth sink into her bottom lip as she whirls around toward her.

“Oh, wow...I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” the staff member begins in a way that Beca perceives as almost bashful at first. She perks back up quickly, however, as she continues. “How can I— Oh, my gosh! Who is this little guy?”

Apparently, this person has much more energy than anybody else Beca has encountered so far, and soon she is crouching down beside the carrier, grinning a bright, pearly smile through the mesh door.

“Uh, his name is Murphy,” Beca eventually responds, dark brows tugging neatly together in unintentional questioning.

“Murphy,” the other woman echoes thoughtfully. She glances up toward Beca briefly, and Beca can see a distinct kindness in what are admittedly the bluest eyes she has ever seen, before addressing the cat again. “Well, hi Murphy, I’m Chloe.” She proceeds to straighten up, “How can I help you and your mommy today?”

For half a second, Beca is so entranced by this stranger’s pep that she just watches, expecting the cat to respond himself, and doesn’t even register Chloe’s line of sight training itself on her face. She stares at her expectantly, gaze almost burning into her, until Beca finally clears her throat.

“Oh,” Beca nods, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, “Right.” Her boots, dampened by the light shower of rain outside, make a squeaking sound against the shiny floor, only further drawing attention to the emptiness of the place. “Yeah, we just moved here, and I guess I forgot to bring…well, any of his things.” Her mouth twists into a small frown, and Beca suddenly feels like the worst cat-parent around.

Fortunately, however, Chloe doesn’t seem to judge, at least not outwardly, and instead responds with a short nod of her head. “Got it. Moving is stressful,” she says in what Beca perceives as a thoroughly understanding tone, genuinely sympathetic smile to match. “But don’t worry, we’ve got you covered. Follow me.”

If this PetSmart worker is anything to go by, the people in West Greenwich are already much friendlier than those back in Jersey City. Either that, or she is just extremely bored and overly elated to finally have _something_ to do amidst an otherwise slowly moving day, but either way, Chloe walks with a certain pep to her step, and rather than direct Beca toward the correct aisles like many likely would, she opts to physically lead the way.

“Where did you guys move from?” Chloe questions conversationally as they approach the first aisle. She glances casually over her shoulder toward Beca, and Beca finds that she is almost overwhelmed—not for the first time—by the sparkle of Chloe’s ocean blue eyes. “Did you have to travel far?”

“New Jersey,” Beca responds simply, for some reason almost surprised that she still has access to her voice. “It was only, like, a three hour drive. I mean, once we were finally out of Jersey City, at least.”

“It’s pretty busy there, huh?” Chloe questions, pausing in front of a shelf laden with food and water bowls. “Here, these are your essentials. You need everything, right?”

“Right,” Beca nods shortly, her response covering both questions.

Chloe, who offers another bright smile, takes a small step back, motioning toward the well-stocked shelves. “All yours.”

In response, Beca shoots her a small, appreciative smile of her own, before allowing her gaze to scan over the products. She doesn’t expect Chloe to stay, much less to continue talking to her, but apparently she doesn’t _know_ Chloe, and Chloe has other ideas.

“So, why’d you move to Rhode Island?” she asks, tone still friendly and conversational. It is much more than Beca is used to from a stranger working at a chain store, but she is also not trying to be rude, so she glances back toward Chloe briefly. She cannot help but take note of the way her head is slightly tilted, almost as if she is studying her.

“Uh…” Beca pauses, tearing her gaze from the other woman and instead reaching out to cautiously pick up one of the bowls. She doesn’t particularly care for the way they look, they’re just dishes for Murphy to eat and drink from, but she finds, for some reason, that she could use the distraction. “My mom and step-dad live here.”

“Oh, so you’re from here originally?”

“No,” Beca shakes her head, a part of her wondering why Chloe is so interested. It dawns on her that she probably isn’t, that she’s just doing her job and being friendly, but again, Beca is not trying to be rude. “I’m from Seattle. My step-dad’s family is from here, though, so when I left for college, he and my mom decided to move out here.” Beca pauses again, dark brows tugging tightly together. She doesn’t even notice that there is a small yet confused smile tugging at her dry lips. “Sorry, you didn’t ask for my life story,” she laughs somewhat awkwardly, glancing over her shoulder toward Chloe. While Beca shoots her an apologetic look, Chloe simply shakes her head.

“I mean, I kind of did,” Chloe says with a small shrug of her shoulder, all the while casually leaning around Beca to retrieve a second bowl. A scent Beca would liken to a mixture of strawberries and something floral drifts by her nostrils. “Here, this one matches the food bowl. Or we have those all-in-one ones, if you’d prefer?”

“No, he’s a messy eater. Separate are better,” Beca clarifies quickly, accepting the bowl graciously from Chloe’s outstretched hand.

Chloe’s beaming grin in response is evidence that she is pleased with her very effortless sales skills, though she seems to startle herself a little as she speaks. “Oh! Wait, you’re gonna have way too much to carry… Hold on, let me go grab you a cart.”

Beca wants to tell her that it’s okay, that she can go get one herself, but Chloe has bounced energetically away before she even gets the chance to stop her, and Beca finds herself watching after her, unsure of whether to find her overeagerness to help annoying or endearing.

Perhaps it is a mixture of both, she decides.

Either way, it doesn’t matter, because Chloe reappears a moment later to take the bowls carefully from Beca’s hands and to set them gently in the empty cart, a look resembling pride settling onto her pale features. “There. That’s better. You can fit the carrier in here, too. Then you have two hands to push the cart and shop.”

“Yeah,” Beca nods, cautiously lifting the carrier to place it softly down into the cart. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Chloe grins brightly. “Okay, what else? Food?”

Chloe proceeds to lead the way around the store, breezily recommending her favorite products versus the store’s best sellers. Apparently, she has a cat, too. Her name is Cupcake, because _of course_ it is, and she has orange and white fur, Beca learns. She didn’t ask, but it seems that Chloe feels it necessary to make constant conversation the entire time, and Beca finds herself both nodding along and responding politely to each new piece of unwarranted information. Murphy is a lot like Beca; he likes his own company, enjoys quietly doing his own thing, and lives for napping on top of something warm. Beca can imagine that Cupcake is the polar opposite; a ball of energy, just like her owner.

By the time Beca finally approaches the cash register and the attendant begins to ring up her items, with Beca actively avoiding paying attention to how much she has actually spent, Chloe has bounded away to go help another new customer. Beca cannot help but note the way she is watching her, cannot help but wonder how any one person can be so happy and overly smiley in what is probably such an unfulfilling job.

“Um, is everything okay?” the cashier asks in a much lazier tone than Chloe’s, one that breaks Beca from some kind of unintentional trance. She whips her head down, and it is only then that she notices everything has been rung up and bagged for her, while the cashier awaits payment; something he has evidently already requested, but that Beca was too lost in her own world to register.

“What? Oh, yeah,” Beca nods quickly, reaching into her back pocket to produce her phone. “Sorry.” She still doesn’t want to know how much she has spent on an unnecessary amount of cat accessories, so quickly taps her phone over the pay machine, then flashes the cashier a somewhat bashful look.

“Alright, that’s all done,” he announces, his own smile in response much more forced than Chloe’s had been—unless Chloe is just a fantastic actress, though Beca had definitely sensed a certain genuinity to her. “Have a great day.”

“Yeah, you too. Thanks,” Beca nods her head politely, fingers wrapping securely around the handle of the cart. She finds herself actively trying to catch Chloe’s eye as she makes her way slowly toward the door, though she doesn’t really know why. It is not like she has anything to say to her, other than to thank her for her help again, but regardless, Chloe is in deep conversation with her new customer. So, Beca leaves with a strange feeling of defeat swirling throughout her, and soon it is just her, Murphy and their three bags filled with cat items tossed into the backseat.

“Let’s try this again,” Beca murmurs softly, moving the car into drive. She heads back the way she came, a short journey leading she and Murphy back to their new home.

* * *

Their first night in West Greenwich is, for lack of a better word, _weird_. Beca’s mom and step-dad come over with homemade lasagna for dinner, so Beca quickly cancels her lazily ordered pizza delivery, and while she doesn’t make much of a dent in unpacking, she does retrieve the essentials (pajamas, toothbrush, laptop, etc.) from their bags, and decides that the rest can wait until morning.

It takes a little time for Murphy to reemerge from the protective hold of his cat carrier, but Beca has set up all of his new things by the time he eventually does, and he seems to ease into exploring his new home once her mom and Steve are gone. He is, of course, somewhat on edge the whole time, but it is progress, so Beca is not complaining.

Too tired to worry about making the bed up just yet, Beca wraps up lazily in a sweater and blanket. She falls asleep somewhere before midnight, curled up comfortably on the couch. Murphy, unlike many cats, tends to sleep through the night, so Beca wakes early in the morning to the feeling of him standing on her stomach, where he’d been curled up the whole night, to lazily stretch his long body, before hopping down to go and sniff around the unpacked boxes.

There is an eerie feeling of this being a strange place, Beca finds as she eventually pushes herself upright on the unfamiliar—yet still surprisingly comfortable—couch. It doesn’t feel like home yet, though that doesn’t necessarily surprise her. A swift glance to her stored belongings reminds her that she has a lot to do today; she is sure that once she unpacks and the apartment is a bit less bare, she’ll start to feel at least a little more at ease.

Her phone, having evidently fallen at some point throughout the night, lay on the floor directly in front of her, and Beca picks it up to see a few social media notifications, as well as a couple unopened text messages. One of them, of course, is from her ex:

**Markus  
** _How’s the new place?_

Beca blinks the sleep from her eyes, teeth nibbling onto the inside of her cheek.

_Are we really doing this?_ She types back, thumb hovering briefly over the ‘send’ button, before she finally taps it. Three dots appear almost instantly, and Beca almost nervously awaits the incoming response.

**Markus  
** _Guess not._

Beca decides against a response of her own.

Once upon a time, she really had loved Markus. She had loved him more than she even knew possible, in fact. But that feels like the longest time ago now, and Beca just wants to move on. She knows Markus does, too. They don’t need to communicate, there really isn’t any point, so Beca decides to leave their conversation there. Fortunately for her, Markus opts not to probe further.

It surprises Beca how little time it takes for her to actually unpack. Admittedly, she has been dreading doing so, but not two hours later and she finds that she is pretty much done. She doesn’t know whether to feel proud of her own efficiency, or sad that she evidently does not have very many belongings…

She has the important ones, of course, like her laptop and mixing equipment, which sit neatly on the desk in the second bedroom. Freelancing, Beca thinks, is going to be a big change, especially from working previously in the hustle bustle of New York City, but at least she has something of a home office in the box room.

While producing music from home is going to be her main job here in Rhode Island, it is not going to be her _only_ job. It had been full-time work for her back in the city, but that had been when Beca was working for a legit company, when she had a constant, steady workflow and the assuring promise of a regular paycheck. Oh, and two incomes, considering she and Markus had shared the finances. It is just her now, though, and while her savings are enough to get her started and pay for the first few months’ rent, it is not enough for her to really live comfortably, especially when factoring in the uncertainty of freelance work. So, Beca knows she needs a second job, something a little more steady. She figures, as she eyes her laptop on the small desk before her, that there is no time like the present to go in search of just that.

It is possible that she should’ve really looked into job listings before the move, but Beca had just wanted to get out of there. She had wanted to leave New Jersey and all of its negative memories behind, and her mom had been so excited about the idea of Beca joining her in Rhode Island that she’d been very encouraging of Beca simply finding herself an apartment and vowing to figure out the rest later on.

Of course, as luck would have it, as Beca scours the Internet from her home office desk, she notices that there are not very many current listings—or at least, nothing she possesses the efficient skills for. There is a local plumber looking to take on an apprentice, and the movie theater in the next town over is apparently hiring. The former is of no interest to her, and in her late twenties, Beca feels that the latter, a job she’d worked as a teen, may make her feel just a little out of place, so neither is particularly on her radar. There is also an open position at PetSmart, not the same one she’d been at yesterday, but Beca doesn’t know enough about animals to confidently advise others.

There is only one other advertisement, this one for an independent florist. Technically, Beca knows less about flowers than she does about animals, but the _‘Immediate start, no experience necessary’_ notice catches her eye. It seems like a relatively boring job, but it beats the idea of working alongside teens at a movie theater, so Beca quickly expands the ad:

_Lilacs For Lucy is looking for a hardworking, eager member to add to our small team of sales assistants. We are a local, independent business with a regular client flow. Prior retail experience is preferred and an approachable nature is a must, but don’t worry if you have never worked with flowers before; full training will be given to successful applicants. Immediate start. If you are interested, please contact us on the number provided below, or stop by the shop at your earliest convenience. We are open seven days a week. Please find our business hours below._

While Beca would not consider herself to be the most approachable person, she has worked retail before; she knows how to put on a friendly face when necessary. She also likes that there is something strangely inviting about the ad—as inviting as a job application can be—and that it doesn’t sound overly professional, nor overly daunting. The fact that there is no actual application to fill out is also a bonus, so Beca doesn’t even need to think too deeply about it as she reaches for her phone and types in the number.

_“Hello, you’ve reached Lilacs For Lucy. How can I help?”_

The voice, notably warm and relaxed, on the other end of the phone appears after only two rings, and if Beca was to venture a guess, she would say that it very likely belongs to an older woman.

“Uh, hey,” Beca clears her throat quietly, having not properly planned out her part of the conversation beforehand. She pushes a smile to her lips, despite the fact that the recipient clearly cannot see her, and hopes that it translates in her voice. “My name is Beca Mitchell, I just found an ad online for an open position with you. Is that still available?”

“It is,” the unnamed voice confirms. Beca notes a consistently friendly tone, one that instantly relaxes her. “Do you have previous retail experience, Beca?”

“Yeah, I do,” Beca nods. “Uh, not in a flower shop… But I’ve worked in a couple department stores.”

“Excellent.” While she cannot see the woman at the other end of the phone, Beca can picture a kind smile on precisely painted lips. A young grandmother, perhaps. “Do you have any free time today?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Beca responds with an eager edge to her tone. “I have the whole day available, in fact.”

“Well, my daughter owns the shop, and she’s due in around three. Could you possibly come down here for, say, three-thirty? I’m sure she’d love to meet you. She’ll ask you a few questions and give you a little more information about the position.”

Beca’s last job, the one at the production company, had had a nightmare of an application process. It had consisted of a lengthy online application—one of those that required a resume and _then_ all of the same information manually typed—followed by a gruelling phone interview, before an eventual face-to-face meeting. There had been a skills assessment involved, then yet another meeting, before Beca had even been given a glimmer of positive news. However, evidently _Lilacs For Lucy_ is a much more relaxed establishment, and Beca finds that she is surprised, though of course not negatively.

“Three-thirty,” Beca confirms with a short nod of her head, “Yeah, absolutely. Um, do you need me to bring anything?”

“Identification,” the older woman says. “Other than that, you’ll just need to answer some questions, and we can see how things go from there.”

“Okay, awesome,” Beca grins widely, though quickly bites her tongue. “I mean, thank you. I’ll see you at three-thirty. Thank you...again.”

The older woman chuckles softly, before saying her goodbyes, and Beca finds herself left staring in confusion at her blank screen once the call cuts out.

What a person is supposed to wear to what sounds like a very lax meeting at a flower shop, Beca truly does not know. A pantsuit seems way too formal, and it is too cold out for a dress. So, Beca opts for a pair of skinny jeans—not the ripped ones she’d fallen asleep in last night—and a plain white shirt covered over with a sleek black blazer. Although she has Maps to help her out, she leaves the apartment before three, just in case she has trouble finding the place.

Evidently, however, she had been a little overeager, because it takes less than fifteen minutes for her to arrive at the correct address, so Beca sits outside for a few minutes, quietly studying the store front.

If she really thinks about it, Beca has never been to a florist before. She has never had any reason to go to one, in fact. This one looks just about the way she would expect, though. There are flower bouquets lining the window, and the sign out front displays the name in neat purple—lilac, probably...Beca doesn’t know exactly what shade of purple lilac actually is—cursive. All in all, it looks every bit the small, family owned business advertised online.

Although technically still early, Beca decides that it is probably better to show some willingness, so offers herself a brief mental pep talk, before emerging cautiously from the car. She straightens out her blazer in preparation as she makes her way toward the single door out front, and notices instantly that the place is almost empty, save for two people talking quietly among themselves by the cash register.

It takes mere seconds for Beca’s eyes to adjust to the flash of familiar red hair, though it is those piercing eyes that catch her attention most prominently, and Beca cannot help but wonder briefly if she is seeing things.

“Oh, hey!” the redhead greets cheerfully, the same way she had only yesterday at the pet store. Her brow creases slightly, though she does not look displeased; thoughtful, perhaps, but not displeased. “Are you Beca?”

“Yeah,” Beca nods in response, gaze shifting between the now familiar redhead and the older woman with the graying hair and kind smile beside her. “Uh, and you’re Chloe, right? From PetSmart?”

“I am!” Chloe announces proudly, stepping out quickly from behind the counter. “This is my mom, Alice. You spoke with her on the phone earlier.”

“Uh, yeah, I guess I did…” Beca responds in words that leave her somewhat slowly as she tries to make sense of the situation before her. Her brows tug tightly together in realization, head tilting in bemusement. “Wait, so does that mean you’re the owner? Of this place?”

“It does,” Chloe chirps with a quick nod of her head, proud smile still unwavering on her neatly painted lips.

“But don’t you work at PetSmart?”

“Only sometimes,” Chloe explains with a slight wave of her hand.

Why someone who owns a business would need a second retail job, Beca doesn’t fully understand. It is not like the flower shop is going under; it may be empty right now, but they wouldn’t be advertising for new employees if they didn’t need the help, right?

“You look nice,” Chloe comments breezily, motioning to Beca’s blazer. For some reason, Beca finds that she feels somewhat self-conscious, and glances down at her outfit, silently second-guessing her choice.

“Um, thanks,” she responds regardless, gaze lifting to dart between the two women again. The older woman, Alice, wears the same kind smile Beca had pictured so vividly when the two were speaking on the phone.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Beca,” Alice finally says, stretching out a hand toward her.

Instinctively, Beca moves closer, gently taking and shaking Alice’s hand. It feels warm in her own; almost comforting, in fact. “Yeah,” she agrees politely, “You too.”

For a brief moment, she had forgotten the setting, forgotten that this was supposed to be a job interview… A job _meeting_? Whatever, Beca may or may not walk away from this one step closer to a new job afterwards, so she shrugs off her momentary confusion, and pushes a friendly smile to her lips in its place.

“Beca, you want to come through to the back with me?” Chloe offers casually, motioning toward the nearest door. “I just need to ask you a few questions, and we can see if this is going to be a good fit.”

A good fit? Does she already have the job? Beca is quickly realizing that this whole thing is becoming further and further from any interview process she has ever experienced before, but she chooses not to question it. Instead, she nods her head in response, eagerly following Chloe by the counter and toward the aforementioned back room. Chloe is already standing dutifully by the door and holding it open for her, so Beca steps inside, the already strong smell of pollen becoming only more so somehow.

“How’s Murphy?” Chloe questions conversationally as she leads the way through a narrow corridor and toward a decidedly much brighter room in the back. “Is he happy with all of his new things?”

“Yeah,” Beca nods in response, confused as to where the line is here. She doesn’t know Chloe, has only had one brief encounter with her before today, but there is something so approachable about her, something so friendly and comforting, that Beca isn’t sure exactly how to act. She doesn’t want to come across as too casual—this is still a job meeting, after all—but she also finds it difficult to be _too_ professional around Chloe already. It is a strange feeling, not knowing what to do, how to be herself. “He didn’t want to leave his carrier for a little bit, but he’s doing okay now.”

“That’s awesome,” Chloe grins brightly, gently closing the door behind them. There are two desks positioned side by side, an open laptop displayed on the edge of the left one, while an array of colorful files are stacked on top of the other. The fact that manual filing systems are still in use is kind of crazy to Beca, but she chooses not to question it. Chloe floats toward one of the four chairs, quickly taking a seat, then motions Beca toward the one directly beside her. “Come, sit down,” she instructs, barely allowing herself a beat before breezily adding, “Are you nervous?”

“What?” Beca’s brows tug together instinctively, the question clearly catching her off guard. “Um, I mean—”

“Job interviews are scary,” Chloe continues, leaning back slightly into her chair. “Don’t worry, though. This is going to be super informal.” Her lips curve into a casual smile. “My mom says you have previous retail experience?”

Suddenly, Beca wonders what whiplash feels like, because she is almost certain she is experiencing it right now. In fact, when she thinks about it, it was the same way at the pet store yesterday, the way Chloe would bounce effortlessly from subject to subject, from professional to friendly. It is almost unsettling, but Beca can’t help but find it somewhat intriguing, too. Still, Beca has to remember where she is, _why_ she is here, so however unnatural it may seem to her, she attempts to keep up.

“Yeah, I do. I was a greeter at Abercrombie & Fitch back in high school,” Beca grimaces slightly, something of an almost apologetic look on her face. “I know, it’s super lame.”

Chloe’s head shakes gently, the natural grin on her lips somehow so calming. “It’s not. Everybody had to go through their Abercrombie phase,” she winks, and Beca cannot help but be slightly taken aback by the small gesture. She doesn’t have Chloe figured out yet, not in the slightest, but already she can tell that she is a very _interesting_ person. In fact, that seems like something of an understatement.

“And how long ago was high school?”

“Huh?”

“You said you worked retail in high school. How long ago was that?”

“Oh…” Beca nods, the instant feeling of foolishness creeping vehemently within her. “Um, ten years ago, I guess? More?”

“You’re thirty?”

“Twenty-eight,” Beca clarifies quickly, “I sometimes feel about fifty, though.”

Chloe chuckles quietly in response as she scribbles down Beca’s age onto a plain sheet of paper. It is the first thing she has written, save for her name. Chloe’s head nods gently, and Beca notes that while her hair had been tied back into a neat ponytail yesterday, her curls now cascade over her shoulders, shaking uniformly with her movements. “I get that. I’m twenty-eight, too.”

“And you own a business?” Beca blurts out in surprise, brows tugging tightly together. She realizes quickly that she is acting anything but professionally, and inwardly chastises herself for her outburst. “Sorry. I just mean… That’s impressive.”

“Mhm,” Chloe smiles sweetly, gaze trained easily on Beca again. Her head tilts slightly, the same way Beca had noticed at the pet store yesterday, and she finds that she is unsure of where to look. It seems weird to stare back, but maybe averting her attention would make her seem disinterested. Eventually, Beca glances toward the vase sitting neatly on her desk, a professional looking arrangement displayed in the center. Again, not that Beca knows anything about flowers, but they look pretty cool to her.

“Um. So why flowers?” Beca questions, again losing herself in the momentary idea that this is a friendly conversation and not a literal job interview.

Fortunately, Chloe doesn’t seem to mind, and softly shrugs a shoulder in response. “I like flowers,” she states simply, gaze moving toward the arrangement. “I like animals, too. That’s why I work at PetSmart.”

Beca nods her head slowly, watching the way Chloe reaches out to delicately touch the nearest flower petal. Her long fingers coast beneath the soft pink surface, and Beca doesn’t understand why she is so mesmerized by Chloe’s movements, but for some reason, she is.

“Do you like flowers?” Chloe asks thoughtfully, lingering gaze still trained on the flower before her.

The question snaps Beca back to reality, causing her to quickly clear her throat. “Oh, uh. Yeah. Sure. They’re pretty,” she nods, suddenly feeling slightly out of her depth.

“Do you know what kind of flower this is?”

If she’d felt out of her depth before, the feeling only intensifies now. If it is not a common garden rose, then Beca has no idea. So, rather than attempt a guess and look like a total idiot in the process, she simply shakes her head, a distinct feeling of heat creeping across her reddening cheeks.

“That’s okay,” Chloe assures with a soft shrug, “It’s an Antirrhinum Majus. Or Snapdragon, that’s what people know them as most commonly.”

“Oh, right… Well, it’s pretty,” Beca tries, wanting to show enthusiasm, despite the fact that she clearly has absolutely zero knowledge in this area, and has probably blown her chances here already.

“Isn’t it?” Chloe muses, an almost dream-like smile settling onto her lips. She seems to be in something of a trance, but eases back to reality as she turns her seat to face Beca again, and something has Beca wishing she could read Chloe’s mind, know what exactly is going on in there. She doesn’t know why it’s so important to her, it just...is. “Do you use social media, Beca? Instagram, Facebook?”

By now, Beca has all but given up on trying to figure Chloe out, on trying to decipher when she is being friendly and conversational, or when she is asking relevant, job-specific questions. Because honestly, right now, Beca doesn’t know, so she decides to treat it as the latter.

“I do,” she nods, “I mostly post music related things on Instagram, and Facebook is mostly just to keep up with old friends, but I have them both, yeah.”

“That’s good,” Chloe nods approvingly. “You just saw that the store is not exactly buzzing with people, especially at this time of year. It tends to pick up around Valentine’s Day, and it stays pretty constant through the summer then, but we rely pretty heavily on social media the rest of the time. We have a website and a company Facebook page and stuff, and we kind of use them as free advertising. If you were to work here, would you be okay with posting about the store on your social media pages?”

It strikes Beca as an odd question, but at least it is honest—and she has a feeling honesty is something Chloe is definitely not lacking. So, Beca nods her head, figuring what can a few flower-specific posts hurt, right? “Yeah, of course.”

Chloe doesn’t respond verbally. Instead, she nods her head again, and offers Beca a kind smile. “So, you like music?”

“Oh, yeah, I love it,” Beca responds easily. She can be a little withdrawn at times, her participation in conversation somewhat awkward, but when the subject is music, Beca can talk enthusiastically for days. _Music. Rhythm. A beat._ It is all second nature to Beca. “I’m a music producer. Or I was… No, I guess I still am. I’m freelancing right now. But that was what I did back in New Jersey. Or New York. I used to commute.”

“Oh, wow. So you worked in New York? I bet that was so much fun, huh?”

“Uh… More stressful than fun,” Beca laughs awkwardly. “But I mean, it was worth it. For the job and stuff.”

“Right,” Chloe grins. “You’re very passionate about it, huh? Music?”

Beca instantly nods her head. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.” She realizes that it is probably not a good thing, divulging her adoration for a whole other career path while in the middle of a job interview, but it is out there now, and Beca takes note of the relaxed smile on Chloe’s lips in response.

Besides, Chloe works two jobs; she probably isn’t expecting Beca’s full loyalty.

“I like that,” Chloe confirms. She glances down toward her sheet of paper, and Beca takes a quick peek, too. Even now, the only information on there is Beca’s name and age, though Chloe scribbles down the words ‘music producer’, too, and Beca is filled with an unnerving sense of regret. She isn’t sure whether it serves as a deterrent or not, but ever the unintentional pessimist, she gets the feeling that it likely does. Beca’s heart drops as Chloe announces that she has all of the information she needs.

“Oh, wait,” Chloe pauses, offering out her pen. Beca hadn’t noticed before that it is a bright purple color, and has a small flower gem on the end. “Can you write down your contact number for me? I’ll give you a call with some feedback later.”

Although she thinks it is perhaps a little pointless, and even considers writing down a fake number rather than having to hear everything she did wrong later, Beca eventually takes the pen and writes down the correct information. She offers Chloe something of a nervous smile in response.

“Hey, don’t look like that,” Chloe chuckles softly, accepting the pen and sheet of paper once Beca is done. “You did great.”

Somehow, the reassurance is incredibly comforting.

Regardless, as Beca says her goodbyes to both Chloe and Alice, she replays the interview in her mind, and wonders briefly whether she could even consider it an interview. She decidedly did not do the great job Chloe had claimed, though, she realizes as she thinks back over Chloe’s question about the Snapdragon, when Beca hadn’t even attempted an answer.

The roads are pretty quiet, so Beca arrives home in roughly the same amount of time as it had taken her to get to the florist before. She has just about enough time to kick off her shoes and head for Murphy’s designated food cupboard before her phone begins to ring. For a brief moment, Beca dares herself to think that it might be Chloe calling her already, but she is almost positive it will be her mother, so doesn’t care to answer too quickly. However, when she slides the phone from her purse to look at the screen, she finds that she does not recognize the number.

“Um, hello?” Beca greets semi-cautiously, pressing the answered phone to her ear. Although slowly, she continues to reach for the cat food, lips pursed in questioning.

“Beca? Hey! It’s Chloe. You can start right away, right?”

For a short second, Beca pulls the phone from her ear, blinking wildly in bewilderment at the screen. She hears a faint _“Hello?”_ ringing through the air, and quickly presses the device to her ear again.

“Whoa, um. Wait, I got the job?” she questions, again very much _not_ professionally.

“You did,” Chloe announces excitedly, and Beca doesn’t know Chloe yet, but she can already picture her smile so clearly, can picture the way her eyes crinkle at the corners as she delivers the good news.

“Wow, uh…” Beca shakes her head quickly, snapping herself back to reality. “I mean, thank you. So much. Yeah, I can start whenever you need me to.”

“Perfect. Sunday?”

It is Friday already, but Beca also has no plans. Other than her mother and Steve, she doesn’t know anybody around here yet, and she has nothing lined up as far as her music, so Beca quickly nods her head.

“Sunday is great, yeah.”

“Awesome!” Chloe chirps. “I’m gonna shoot you a text with all of the information you need. I mean, I’m gonna need to see some ID and stuff, since I didn’t take that today. But if Sunday works for you, then I guess I’ll see you then?”

“Yeah, absolutely,” Beca nods, still in slight disbelief. It is a huge contrast, she realizes again, to the hiring process for her last job, but Beca is definitely not complaining.

“Oh, and are you okay with me adding you on Facebook?”

While initially received as an odd question, Beca quickly recalls their prior conversation, when Chloe had talked about social media. She probably just wants to check out Beca’s page, make sure there is nothing untoward on there. So, Beca quickly nods her head again, thinking nothing much more of it. “Yeah, of course. Just search Beca Mitchell. One C in Beca, two Ls in Mitchell.”

“Okay, awesome,” Chloe repeats, and Beca feels a sense of mutual satisfaction between the two of them. She doesn’t know how to explain it, but she can feel it. Then again, she doesn’t quite know how to explain Chloe either, so she supposes it is fitting.

Of course, the moment they end their call, Beca rushes to the Facebook application, hastily scrolling through her own page to make sure there is nothing on there that there shouldn’t be.

It is only a matter of minutes later that she receives the friend request from Chloe Beale, owner of Lilacs For Lucy florist. Beca doesn’t mean to accept the request so eagerly, but she does so anyway, and can’t help but allow her curiosity to get the better of her as she clicks immediately through to Chloe’s profile.

_Chloe Beale_ , she reads silently, gaze pulled in by the profile picture. It is of Chloe and two other women, all three of them smiling toward the camera. For some reason, Beca finds herself smiling back, though she quickly bites back the expression, continuing to scroll.

_Owner of Lilacs For Lucy, West Greenwich, RI. Born June 7. Married to Ryan West._

Beca’s eyes practically pop out her head.

“She’s married?” she mumbles aloud—loudly enough to draw Murphy’s attention. Then again, she is hovering by his food bowl, so maybe he is just interested in that. He is a cat, after all.

The information is irrelevant. It shouldn’t matter. It certainly shouldn’t cause a sinking feeling inside of Beca’s chest.

But for some reason, as she rereads Chloe’s information for the second time in bewildered silence, she finds that it just... _does_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe gets to know Beca a little better, while Beca inadvertently learns a little more about Chloe in return. Kind of.

Something Beca can safely say she has truly never imagined herself doing before? Researching flowers. Flowers are not a passion for her, the florist job is just a way to make a little extra money to keep herself afloat in a new place. However, she had felt strangely embarrassed when Chloe had quizzed her about the ones in the vase sitting on the desk during her interview, so Beca decides that it makes sense to educate herself at least a little bit before her first official shift on Sunday.

She likes the Snapdragon, she decides. Lilacs are decidedly not her thing; Beca can picture them growing in her grandmother’s small garden—her dad’s mom, not the one she actually likes—so she doesn’t necessarily see the appeal. The Snapdragon is interesting looking, though. Beca can understand why Chloe has them on display in her office… And as her Facebook header. Chloe likes them, so Beca likes them, too.

_No_.

Beca likes them just because she likes them… It has nothing to do with Chloe.

It registers to Beca, as she soaks comfortably for the first time in her new bathtub the following evening, Murphy’s claws tapping quietly as he slowly prowls around the shiny plastic edge, that her initial surprise when seeing Chloe’s relationship status wasn’t as strange as she’d originally thought. Beca is dealing with a breakup from a very serious relationship—her first and only serious relationship at that—it is only natural for her to feel a certain way when seeing the incredible life achievements of someone else her age while she is essentially back to square one. Chloe is married, she owns her own business. She has her life together. And Beca just… Well, she has a small apartment and a cat. The information had simply put her life into harsh perspective, that was all. So, nothing weird.

Maybe soon, if she doesn’t meet a few people and acquire something resembling a social life again, she will feel the reality of her new start; she will feel as though she truly is alone for the very first time. But for now, Beca is content. She is proud of herself, in fact. She left a toxic situation, and she did what was right for herself. So, she finds that there is a small, satisfied smile creeping onto her lips as she lowers further into the slightly too warm bath water, eyes closing in relaxation.

True to form, that relaxation does not last long. Before Beca has even had the chance to open her eyes, a loud clattering sound cuts into her serene thoughts, followed by the squeaking of sharp claws and an unnerving _crash_. Instantly, Beca’s lids flutter back open in a panic to the sight of her wine glass floating in the water, with Murphy having jumped down from the edge of the tub to go and cower meekly in the corner.

“Dude, are you serious?” Beca whines petulantly, quickly sitting upright to see the deep shade of red wine darkening the water around her. “Come _on_.”

There it is again, that harsh reality; her twenty-eight year old boss has a husband, she has a business and her entire life together, while Beca has a cat and a newly discolored tub. Red wine has begun to stain her skin now, too.

_Perfect_.

* * *

Despite the fact that Beca doesn’t sleep very well Saturday night, Sunday morning seems to come around pretty quickly. For the second time when entering _Lilacs For Lucy_ florist, this time as an official employee, Beca finds that she is second-guessing her outfit decision. The text message from Chloe had instructed her to dress the same way she had to her interview, minus the blazer, and to wear comfortable shoes, because she will be on her feet all day. Beca has followed instruction, but regardless, as she walks through the singular front door to be greeted by the sight of Chloe in a pretty, very much not winter-appropriate dress, she cannot help but worry. Chloe, of course, busy arranging a bouquet of flowers, does not seem to share her concern.

“Beca,” she greets cheerfully, straightening up to send a small wave Beca’s way. Beca notes the way Chloe takes a quick glance downward, and cannot help the way she inwardly shudders at the thought of somehow disappointing her new boss. There is no hint of disappointment displayed through the bright smile Chloe shoots toward her, though. Instead, she motions happily toward Beca’s outfit. “You look pretty.”

“So do you,” Beca hears herself saying before she has even properly had the chance to register her own words. Her eyes widen slightly in realization that it is probably an inappropriate thing to say to her employer, and Beca silently prays that Chloe won’t notice the way her cheeks instantly darken a shade.

“Thank you,” Chloe grins proudly, practically floating across the room and toward her. On the way, she stretches out a hand to breeze her fingertips by the soft petals of the arrangements in her path, and Beca is beginning to notice that Chloe is always moving. She is always doing something, always _saying_ something. It is early Sunday morning, but Chloe is buzzing with the kind of energy that exhausts Beca to even think about. “Did you bring your ID?”

How Chloe has some strange, mystical ability to mentally transport Beca to a whole other place, to forget where she is and what she is supposed to be doing, to then somehow snap her right back again in a heartbeat, Beca is still trying to figure out. However, it takes her a moment to register why Chloe needs to see identification. Of course, this is a _job_ , and Beca decides she will do well to remember as much.

“Oh, yeah, I did,” she finally responds with a short nod of her head, scrambling for the bulky zipper of her small over-the-body purse.

“That’s okay,” Chloe interrupts easily, motioning toward the door behind the cash register, the one they’d been through only two days prior. “We can deal with all of that later. I want to get started with some training right away.”

Beca’s gaze follows Chloe’s brief motion toward the door, before she shortly nods her head in understanding, slipping her passport—she is yet to update her license—back into the compact purse. The sound of Chloe’s quiet, blissful humming rings softly in her ear.

“If you head through to the room I interviewed you in, you’ll see some lockers. There should be one with the door open and a key in the lock. Put your things in there and keep ahold of the key, that’ll be your locker. If you have to use the bathroom, that’s the door on the right.”

Beca nods along dutifully with Chloe’s instructions, heading quickly toward the door. She wants to look eager and ready to jump into her new job, wants to make a good first impression. Or second impression—her first, she feels, wasn’t so great. Beca plans to turn things around now, though.

“I’ll be out here!” Chloe calls after her, tone slightly distracted, yet still breezy enough. A quick glance over her shoulder shows Beca that Chloe has already begun to rearrange another bouquet. She wonders silently if she’ll have to wear one of those goofy aprons Chloe has on over the top of her dress.

(Spoiler: she does.)

After working for a company filled with higher ups way above their forties, it feels almost strange to Beca to take direction from somebody her own age; even more so to look at them as an authority figure—especially when Chloe is so _un_ -authoritative. She is just so nice, so genuinely _nice_ , and while Beca can already tell that Chloe is a natural leader, there is just something else about her, something that Beca cannot quite put her finger on. Already, though, she has warned herself to stop trying to read Chloe Beale. It has gotten her nowhere so far, and Beca knows that, if she keeps on doing so, she will only continue to be stumped.

Alice is sitting in the office when Beca enters, typing something out onto the laptop Beca had seen on Friday. If Beca was to guess, she’d say that Alice is a little older than her own mother, but evidently much more savvy with technology—the amount of times her mom has called her because her computer is ‘broken’ has gotten ridiculous by now. Alice is polite and talkative, much like her daughter, and Beca gets caught up for a few minutes in casual conversation with her, but soon excuses herself to go join Chloe out front again. By the time she reemerges into the main store, Chloe is standing by the cash register, talking excitedly to someone Beca assumes is a customer.

Initially, Beca thinks she is just talking quickly, though as she slowly approaches, she notices that Chloe seems to be speaking a whole other language altogether. The customer, in turn, is speaking what Beca can only assume is the same language back. Despite the fact that she doesn’t know what either woman is saying—save for what little she remembers from her high school French classes, Beca is not very linguistically diverse—she watches the interaction with a slightly furrowed brow.

In spite of Beca’s presence, their conversation continues to flow, until it seems the two say their goodbyes. Beca notes that the customer looks pleased with both the service and her fresh flower arrangement as she hurries toward the exit.

“Uh…” Beca begins once it is just she and Chloe again. She swallows thickly, watching as Chloe places notes neatly into the cash register. “You were speaking…”

“Japanese,” Chloe clarifies breezily, without so much as glancing up. Though, she pauses momentarily, a worried look creeping into her bright blue eyes. Beca finds it a little unsettling, even more so as Chloe finally lifts her head, seemingly horrified gaze slowly turning toward Beca. “Wait, you don’t speak Japanese?”

For half a second, Beca doesn’t even know how to respond. She knew that she’d gotten this job too easily, and apparently her lack of linguistic knowledge is going to be her untimely downfall. “I mean…” she scrambles for an appropriate response. “I could learn?”

Chloe’s serious, concerned expression softens quickly, and suddenly there is an unmistakable gleam in her already sparkling eyes that admittedly confuses Beca. “I’m kidding,” she chuckles to herself, closing the drawer of the cash register. “You need to relax, Beca. I know new jobs are scary, but you’re part of our little team now. We want you to be comfortable here.”

There is a slight hint of caution to the way Beca awkwardly laughs in return, bottom lip tugging in between her teeth. The action is half awkward, half embarrassed. “You know how to confuse a girl, that’s for sure.”

“Life would be boring if everything was plain sailing.” Chloe simply shrugs a shoulder in response, a casual smile easing onto her neatly painted lips. “Come on, let me show you how to work the register. It’s an old one, so it’s super simple, you’ll get the hang of it in no time.”

* * *

Her day of training with Chloe goes very much the way Beca had expected. One minute, Chloe is explaining something intricate to her, and the next she is pulling her into casual, friendly conversation, generally about something different each time. By the end of the day, Beca has learned that that is just the way Chloe is, that she doesn’t do anything in any normal order, and somehow, Beca finds that she is growing used to it already. It’s just...it’s _easy_ to be around Chloe, and Beca feels like she has started to ease up some herself by the time they swing the old-fashioned sign on the door from ‘open’ to ‘closed’.

Apparently, however, she has not loosened up quite as much as she would like to believe, because Chloe catches her once they are in the back office and Beca has begun to gather her belongings from her designated locker.

“Did you enjoy your first day?” Chloe asks cheerfully, beginning to shrug on her jacket. It is a bright red color, it matches the lipstick Chloe has just reapplied.

“Yeah,” Beca responds honestly, gently nodding her head. Her brows pull together naturally. “I actually did.”

Chloe’s head tilts slightly as she eyes Beca, a look of amusement stretching thinly across her pale features. “You seem surprised.”

Quickly, Beca tries to backtrack. Her worried eyes widen some, but before she gets the chance to even try to correct herself, Chloe is laughing that now familiar, melodic laugh, and Beca really isn’t so sure what’s so funny.

“Beca, what did I tell you about relaxing?” Chloe grins in something of a boisterous manner, mischievous glow to her glistening eyes. Her fingers work quickly at the large buttons on the front of her red jacket, and she seems to be more focused on them than on Beca. “Do you want to go out with me?”

For the second—no, more like _millionth_ —time, Beca’s eyes widen, and Chloe seems to take note of the stunned reaction.

“Not like that!” Chloe clarifies quickly, shooting an amused look Beca’s way. “I want you to think of me as a friend, you know? Not a boss.” Her shoulder shrugs gently, and Beca notes that the kind look drawing itself onto her face really is very calming. “I may own this place, but we’re equals here. Me, you, mom and Adam, he’s our other assistant. Maybe we could go to a bar or something? Hang out outside of work,” Chloe suggests. “I just want you to loosen up.”

Most bosses, especially on the first day at a new job, would not be inviting their employees out to bars, but Chloe is not _most_ bosses. Like she’d said, she wants Beca to view her as a friend, an equal. So, despite the fact that Beca’s first instinct tells her that it is probably inappropriate to accept the offer, she decides quickly that it cannot hurt—again, Chloe really is not a _normal_ boss. Plus, Beca doesn’t know anybody in Rhode Island yet, at least nobody her own age, so without much further thought, she finds that she is nodding her head in response, against what is possible better judgment.

“Yeah?” Chloe questions, a look of positive surprise on her face. “Cool, okay. I have to go take care of a couple things at home first, but my favorite bar is pretty close by. I could text you the address and we could meet there at seven?”

Beca is happy for Chloe to lead the way. It is not like she knows of anywhere around here yet herself, so she agrees easily. Soon enough, Beca is in her car and making the short drive home, where she finds herself, once again, questioning where the line is.

Or if, at this point, the line even exists at all.

* * *

Naturally, as soon as Beca receives Chloe’s text message with the name and address of the bar, she looks it up online. Beca likes preparation, likes to know as much as possible beforehand. Judging by the online pictures and reviews, she decides that Chloe’s favorite bar is very underwhelming. With it being Sunday evening, Beca can also only assume that it is unlikely to be filled with people. Regardless, she needs to put herself out there somehow, so puts at least a little extra effort into her outfit.

Following a quick shower and a fresh application of makeup, Beca changes into a pair of black skinny jeans, as well as a loose fitting gray band tee, complete with a French tuck to make Tan France proud. She wears boots with a slight heel, and places all of her earrings back in—she had taken them out for work, just in case.

Beca has decided already that she will not be drinking much, partially because she has to work in the morning, and partially because she isn’t trying to be sloppy in front of her new boss. So, with Murphy’s food bowl filled sufficiently, and Beca satisfied that she looks decent enough, she proceeds to drive herself to the location. Upon arrival, she immediately catches sight of Chloe standing outside, and notes that she is deep in conversation with a man that Beca does not yet recognize.

It surprises her to see that Chloe is holding a lit cigarette between her fingers.

“Hey,” Beca greets casually as she climbs from her car, already furrowed brows only knitting more tightly together as she approaches. “You know those are, like, really bad for you, right?” Beca is not one to judge, but Chloe told her to look at her as a friend, and Beca would do the same with any of her friends back home.

“So is beer,” Chloe states very matter-of-factly. Too focused on the seemingly unnatural sight of Chloe smoking a cigarette, Beca hadn’t even noticed the bottle in Chloe’s other hand. Not until she lifts it to shake gently in Beca’s view, anyway. She takes a long swig from the bottle, eyes trained carefully on Beca the whole time, then flashes a strangely proud looking smile her way once she is done.

“Oh, Harry,” Chloe says, as if just remembering she had been mid-conversation not a minute earlier. “This is Beca, she’s new to town. I just hired her at the shop.”

“Oh yeah?” Harry responds, moving his own cigarette to the hand holding his beer bottle. He stretches out his now free hand to take Beca’s, shaking it quickly. “Harry. Where’d you move from?”

“New Jersey,” Chloe answers for her, before Beca even has the chance to open her mouth. “She used to work in New York.”

Harry’s brows raise in response, a friendly smile sent Beca’s way. “Damn. This place must be like Hell for you, huh? Quiet, I mean.”

“No,” Beca shakes her head shortly, glancing between Chloe and her friend. She notes Chloe’s rapidly more familiar stare burning into her again. Chloe seems to be examining her outfit, and Beca wonders if she has worn the wrong thing. Then again, a quick scan down Chloe’s body shows her that they are dressed pretty similarly. Chloe wears dark blue skinny jeans and a casual black tank top. Her long curls fall neatly over her shoulders, and Beca notes no jewelry, aside from a thin chained necklace with what looks like a small flower charm in the middle. Her gaze moves toward Harry quickly, so as not to seem like she is staring. “It’s not so bad. There’s such a thing as _too_ busy.”

“Yeah, I hear that,” Harry responds with a short nod of his head. He brings his bottle up to his lips, tipping it back and easily finishing off the remainder of his drink. In the process, he flicks the butt of his cigarette onto the ground, stomping out any remaining ash with the toe of his boot. “Alright, I’d better get back in there. I’ll see you soon, Chlo.” He begins to turn toward the door, though shoots Beca a small wave in passing. “Nice to meet you, Beca.”

“You too,” Beca says politely, taking notice of the fact that there is no buffer between she and Chloe by the time Harry has disappeared back inside of the building.

It feels almost rude to stare as Chloe takes a long drag from her cigarette, but Beca doesn’t really have anyplace else to look. So, she just stands, kind of awkwardly shifting from foot to foot, and waiting for a chance to make conversation. Unsurprisingly, Chloe does so first.

“You look pretty,” Chloe states easily, the same way she had this morning. Come to think of it, she’d said something similar at Beca’s interview on Friday. Perhaps she is just an overly polite person. Actually, Beca is confident that there is no _perhaps_ about it.

“Thanks. You look…” Beca pauses for a split second, eyeing Chloe’s much more casual attire again. She assesses the black heeled biker boots Chloe is wearing to complete her outfit, and notes that the whole ensemble is quite the contrast to anything Beca has seen her in before. “Different,” she decides.

“Bad different?” Chloe questions curiously, auburn brow arching in thought. She takes another slow drag from her cigarette, eyes remaining on Beca all the while.

“No,” Beca shakes her head, gaze moving back up to Chloe’s face now. “You look good, you just look different. I don’t know.” She motions toward Chloe’s outfit with a gentle shrug of her shoulder. “It’s not the flowery dress you were wearing earlier, anyway.”

“Hm,” Chloe shrugs in return, dropping her cigarette onto the floor. She proceeds to die out the end with her boot, the same way Harry had, then in an uncommon action as far as Beca is concerned, leans down to pick up the now dead filter. Chloe takes a couple steps away from the door, tossing it into the nearby trash can. “It’s not my PetSmart uniform either. Maybe I should’ve worn that?” She winks as she breezes by Beca again to tug open the door, motioning Beca in first. “Go ahead.”

The establishment, Beca notes quickly once she and Chloe are inside, is much more crowded than she had expected it to be. The lighting is dim and the music is kind of loud, though not annoyingly so. Beca can still hear herself think anyway, still hear the sound of Chloe’s voice as she flits by her and toward the bar.

“What are you drinking?” Chloe asks over her shoulder, elbows down comfortably on the bartop. She flashes Beca a charming smile, the kind where, if this was a movie, her teeth would likely glisten. “My treat.”

“You’re treating me?” Beca questions in something akin to mild surprise. She slips by a small group of men to slide in beside Chloe at the bar.

“I pay you now, I know how little you get,” Chloe teases lightly, hip gently nudging against Beca’s. The playful gesture pulls a small chuckle from Beca in response. “Seriously, though, let me get you a drink. What do you want?”

“Fine,” Beca concedes easily, glancing toward the almost empty bottle in Chloe’s hand. “Whatever you’re drinking.”

Chloe simply nods, before flashing a bright smile the bartender’s way.

“Same again?” the bartender asks in a friendly tone. Beca gets the feeling that she and Chloe already know one another—either this is a smaller town than Beca had realized, or Chloe just knows everyone. The latter would not surprise her, truth be told.

“Yep! And a second one for my friend,” Chloe responds politely, glancing quickly toward Beca. “Thanks, Hannah.”

Confirmed: they know each other.

“Coming right up,” the bartender—Hannah–nods, before disappearing to grab two fresh bottles.

Despite the fact that the place is busy, far more so than Beca had initially anticipated for a Sunday night, she finds that there is something relaxing about it, too. There is a kind of friendly, safe atmosphere, in which everybody does their own thing and talks quietly amongst themselves, while still coexisting within the same environment. Deciding that she may have judged Chloe’s bar choice a little too soon when she’d been researching online earlier, Beca turns to tell her that she is happy to be here, but the shimmer of Chloe’s necklace catches her eye. Beca tilts her head as she studies the flower charm for a moment.

“Snapdragon?” Beca questions, almost as if from nowhere. Chloe glances toward her with a slightly confused look on her face at first, but Beca points to the charm, and Chloe responds with a relatively amused smile.

“You’ve been doing your research, huh?” Chloe grins proudly, fingers gently clasping the charm between them. Beca notices the way she begins to brush the pad of her thumb along the back of it, and finds that she is overcome with the inexplicable urge to reach out and delicately touch it herself. Fortunately, Hannah arrives quickly with their drinks, and Beca is snapped abruptly back to the present.

Beca flashes a small, appreciative smile the bartender’s way, quickly accepting the opened bottle, and wastes no time in taking a sip.

“I like that,” Chloe states simply. She finishes off the remainder of her previous drink in one long gulp, before setting the empty bottle down carefully on the bartop with a soft _clink_. She immediately moves onto the fresh one, bringing it up to her lips.

“You like what?” Beca asks, head tilted slightly in questioning.

“That you’ve been researching,” Chloe confirms. “It’s nice. It shows that you’re enthusiastic. I like enthusiasm.”

Beca simply shrugs a shoulder in response, taking another small sip from her beer. It is icy cold and slides very easily down her throat; Beca takes note of how it was yet another good choice on Chloe’s part. “I mean, I don’t want to look like a total amateur.”

“You were an amateur when you started working in music production, weren’t you?”

“Well, yeah… Honestly, people would probably still consider me one, depending on who you ask,” Beca frowns, free hand beginning to pick at the corner of the bottle’s label. Her voice is a little more mumbly as she continues. “An amateur, I mean.”

Chloe chuckles softly at that, the way she shakes her head causing the small gem in the middle of her necklace charm to shimmer beneath the bar’s dim lighting. Beca hadn’t noticed it before, but she sees now that it is a purple color, and decides that purple must be Chloe’s _thing_.

“You say that like it’s a dirty word or something. Do you know where the word amateur comes from?” Chloe questions breezily, curious eyes studying Beca’s face. It seems that she notices the way Beca is staring at her necklace, and Beca cannot tell whether it is intentional or not, but Chloe brings a hand up to clasp the charm protectively between her finger and thumb again, almost as if blocking it from Beca’s view.

Beca shakes her head in response.

“Amare,” Chloe explains. “It’s Latin, it means to love. To do things as an amateur means to do them for the love of it.”

Beca blinks in bewilderment, watching Chloe over the top of her bottle as she takes another quick swig. “So, what… You speak Latin now, too?”

Chloe simply shrugs, so Beca chuckles quietly as she lowers the bottle once more. “You know some really weird facts.”

“I do,” Chloe agrees easily, elbow leaning casually against the bartop. Her body is twisted toward Beca now, while Beca’s is turned toward Chloe, leaning sideways against the bar, in return. She cannot help but note that Chloe looks entirely comfortable to be in her company, and perhaps it is strange, but Beca finds that she is feeling more and more comfortable in Chloe’s already, too. “Do you know any?” Chloe asks. “Tell me one.”

“What? Weird facts?” Beca questions, brow arching in thought. Chloe simply nods as she takes a small sip from her drink, gaze unabashedly studying Beca all the while.

“Uh…” Beca thinks for a moment, nose wrinkling in the process. At first, she finds that she comes up short, but she cannot help the strange need she has to please Chloe, to give her what she wants. It just so happens that what she wants right now is apparently a random fact, so Beca does not give up. “Guinea pigs,” she eventually says. “It’s illegal to only own one of them in Switzerland.”

Chloe’s head tilts slightly, expression both thoughtful and intrigued. “It is? Why?”

Beca shrugs a shoulder lamely in response. “I don’t know, I just know that when we went to the shelter to adopt Murphy, we asked if it’s better to get one or two, and the dude at the shelter was like,” she lowers her voice slightly, a feeble attempt at imitation, “‘They’re not guinea pigs, we’re not in Switzerland.’ And apparently it’s illegal to only own one of them there.”

“Interesting,” Chloe chuckles quietly. “You should find out why. Random facts are fun, but even more so when you know the whole story.”

Beca nods her head slowly, cracking a smile in response to Chloe’s soft chuckle. She is learning that there is something almost infectious about Chloe’s happiness, though she genuinely has no idea why. Truth be told, Chloe is not the type of person Beca would usually spend her time with; they’re polar opposites, it would seem, but so far, she finds that they are getting along pretty well. Beca doesn’t _hate_ her, anyway, so that’s something.

“Who’s we?” Chloe asks in a casual tone. While Beca doesn’t verbally respond, the way she instead raises a penciled brow seems to prompt Chloe to elaborate. “You said when _we_ went to the shelter to adopt Murphy. Who is we?”

“Oh…” For a while there, Beca had almost forgotten about Markus. Romantically, there is nothing between them anymore. In truth, there hasn’t been for a long time now. But being without him after so many years together is proving to be an adjustment, so the mention of him draws unwanted feelings within her. “We…” she begins somewhat slowly, “Would be my ex and me.”

It still feels weird, referring to Markus as her _ex_. Fortunately, Beca has learned that whenever she does, people tend to change the subject, probably understanding that she has no desire to discuss him. He is not her favorite topic anymore, so it is something she is thankful for. Chloe, of course, is not most people, so it really doesn’t surprise Beca when all Chloe does is stare at her, as if wordlessly waiting for her to go on.

“His name is Markus,” Beca continues, words flowing a little more easily than she would expect. Chloe sips slowly on her drink, expression showing that she is listening intently. “We met in college, I think I was, like, nineteen or something. We stayed together ever since, and when he got a job in New Jersey after graduation, I went with him.”

Beca dares herself to wonder if that is enough. Evidently, though, it isn’t. _Of course_ it isn’t. She doesn’t know Chloe very well yet, but she knows her well enough for that.

“What else?” Chloe presses gently, bottle now held securely by her stomach. Her tone, Beca notes, has softened some, and Beca can tell that she is actively taking an interest, genuinely cares to know more. “You said he’s your ex, so that can’t be the end of the story.”

A small sigh releases between Beca’s slightly parted lips, head nodding slowly as she attempts to mentally piece together everything else. Without going into too much detail, of course. Markus may have said some bad things, but he is not a bad guy, and she doesn’t want to give Chloe the impression that he is. Especially when he isn’t even here to defend himself.

“He wanted kids,” Beca continues, lips twisting slowly in thought. Her gaze shifts meekly down to the bottle in her hands, almost like she is trying to distract herself as she speaks. “I wanted to focus on work. We adopted Murphy, like that would fill the whole kid void for him.” To say so aloud causes a small chuckle to fall from Beca’s lips, mostly because she realizes now how stupid it sounds. Chloe, on the other hand, does not seem to be laughing. “Anyway, it didn’t. Obviously,” Beca frowns. “Eventually, I guess we just realized we wanted different things. I mean, we could adopt all of the animals in the world, but they’d never actually be a child, you know? That’s what he wanted, and I wasn’t ready. I don’t know if I’m ever going to be ready for that.”

Beca doesn’t realize the way her volume has quietened slightly, though she is still speaking coherently enough for Chloe to hear her above the music. She glances up to see something she hasn’t yet seen in Chloe’s bright eyes; they look different, honestly kind of sad, but she is still listening. Something about her expression encourages Beca to go on.

“He said we’re almost thirty, it’s weird that I don’t want to be a mom. Actually, I think defective is the word he used…” The corner of her lips twists into something of a sad smile, and Beca shrugs a shoulder gently. “Maybe he’s right. But anyway, we weren’t going to work anymore, so he’s still in Jersey City, and I’m here.”

Normally, Beca does not go into detail about her relationship—former relationship. In fact, since she and Markus split more than three months ago now, she hasn’t actually put it all out there so plainly at all. Not until now, at least. There is something conflicting about doing so; on one hand, it is incredibly freeing, but at the same time, it is kind of painful, too.

If Chloe wants more, Beca doesn’t know what to give her. Wordlessly, she allows their gazes to meet in a way that would normally make her feel uncomfortable, but she finds that, for some reason, it doesn’t, and almost defeatedly shrugs a shoulder.

Beca values her personal space, doesn’t like anyone encroaching on it. But as Chloe’s hand moves forward to settle gently on her shoulder, the feeling of delicate fingertips softly squeezing in support, Beca doesn’t shrug her off. Instead, she just glances down at Chloe’s hand, takes a certain level of comfort in it that is almost foreign to her.

“You’re not defective, Beca,” Chloe assures her in a tone that is both soft and soothing. Honestly, Beca has heard people tell her so countless times by now; her friends back home, her parents. And while Beca has always appreciated the reassurance, she has never really believed it. Not until now, not until hearing it from a person who was a total stranger to her this time last week.

“I’m not?” Beca questions in a smaller voice than she recognizes, for some reason craving the validation.

“No, of course you’re not.” Chloe’s fingers squeeze gently once more, before she releases her delicate hold, and Beca is left with something of a weightless feeling where Chloe’s hand had previously been. “You’re a little distant, and you wear too much eyeliner,” Chloe continues, painted red lips curving into something of a playful smirk. “But you’re not defective.”

It is a strange feeling for Beca, going from such deep sadness as she recalls darker times in her recent past, to suddenly being able to chuckle quietly, genuinely, in response to Chloe’s light teasing. She rolls her eyes playfully, bringing her beer bottle up to her lips. “Good to know.”

The genuine sadness Beca had felt radiating from Chloe throughout her story seems to alleviate, as if she has all of the information she needs, and Chloe glances toward the door. “Do you smoke?” she questions, reaching into the back pocket of her jeans.

Beca quickly shakes her head in response, unintentionally wrinkling her nose. “No. I told you, it’s bad for you.”

“I know it is,” Chloe shrugs almost nonchalantly. She produces a single cigarette from her pocket, as well as a small lighter. Beca watches, for some reason intrigued, as Chloe lifts the lighter up between them. She takes in the sight of Chloe’s blue eyes zoning in on the wheel as she sparks a neat flame to the end; it seems that she is studying it, almost mesmerized by it, and Beca wonders exactly what she is thinking. “That’s why I do it.”

The flame snaps off somewhat abruptly, and Beca is left with furrowed brows as she glances toward Chloe. Chloe, however, has replaced her expression of deep concentration with a bright, sincere smile, and begins to head toward the door. “I’ll be right back, okay?” she promises, pushing a brief kiss to the apple of Beca’s cheek in passing.

From the unnerving statement to the impromptu kiss to her cheek, Beca doesn’t know what has just happened. She is left bewildered, staring at the door as it swings closed behind Chloe, and Beca cannot help but wonder what the hell is actually going on.

She doesn’t realize how hard she is staring, not until an unfamiliar voice behind her cuts into her confused thoughts. In fact, it takes her a second to even register that the voice is actually addressing her.

“You’re new around here?”

Beca’s brow arches as she whirls around to find herself face-to-face with the bartender, Hannah. “Uh…”

“I don’t recognize you,” Hannah shrugs, keeping herself busy with wiping down the surface of the bartop with a moderately clean looking rag. “What’s your name?”

Hannah has a very unique look to her. If Beca was to guess, she’d say she was around her age. She has more ear piercings than Beca does—which is really saying something—as well as a black titanium ring through her septum. Her short blonde hair is pulled over to one side, and compliments her face shape well.

“Beca,” Beca finally responds. It takes her a moment to really focus, still a little taken aback by Chloe’s last statement, but she quickly shakes herself back to reality, trying to remain present and active in this new conversation. “Yeah, I just moved here from New Jersey.”

“New Jersey?” Hannah raises a penciled brow. While the expression on her face looks somewhat judgmental, there is also something playful about it. It draws a small grin from Beca in response. “Yikes.”

“It’s not that bad,” Beca chuckles softly, body turning fully to properly face the bartender.

“I’m from Trenton,” Hannah smirks, tossing the rag toward the nearby sink. “It is that bad.”

Beca’s amused grin in response is a natural one. She almost finds it strange how quickly she is warming to all of these new people. Perhaps she had lost herself a little bit in recent years, and this is how it feels to settle into being herself again. “Man, and I’ve been doing so well at convincing people otherwise.”

The expression on the blonde’s face mirrors Beca’s. Hands now free, she stretches one across the bar to shake Beca’s, and Beca easily complies. “I’m Hannah.”

“Yeah,” Beca nods, “I figured when Chloe ordered our drinks before.”

“Right, right. You and Chloe are new friends?”

Beca shrugs a shoulder gently in response, head nodding shortly. “Something like that. She’s actually my boss, I just started working at her shop.”

“Oh yeah, Lilacs?” Hannah nods, “Rad.”

“Lilacs For Lucy, yeah,” Beca corrects.

“Right. Well, it used to just be Lilacs.”

Before now, the name of the store hadn’t really registered to Beca. She simply nods, though, her fleeting curiosity coming and just as quickly flying away with the increasingly familiar sound of Chloe’s voice behind her.

“Are you done with your drink?” Chloe asks breezily, easily catching Beca’s attention. Beca hadn’t even realized that her bottle was almost empty, though a quick glance down shows her that the contents have gone down even easier than she had initially realized.

“Oh,” Beca nods, lifting the bottle to tip back the small amount of alcohol that remains. It slides coolly down her throat the same way as the rest had. She sets the empty bottle down on the bartop, and Hannah takes it from her with a quick wink. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Okay,” Chloe smiles, though a long yawn cuts into the expression. “I’m actually kind of tired, I’m thinking about heading out. And you probably should too, you have work in the morning.”

“Wait,” Beca frowns, though there is something of a playful look in her curious eyes. “So, what did we land on here? Friend or boss?”

“Mm…” Chloe pretends to think for a moment, before a small smirk settles onto her lips. “We’ll go with both.”

“Fine,” Beca concedes, unknowingly mirroring Chloe’s smug expression. She doesn’t realize the way Hannah is staring between the two of them, a somewhat knowing look in her hazel eyes.

“Okay! I guess we’re out of here,” Chloe chirps, whole body turning toward the bar.

Hannah has begun rearranging a couple glasses, but pauses for Chloe to stretch up onto her tiptoes, and as if it is simply routine, she leans across the bar to gently grab a fistful of Hannah’s shirt. Chloe tugs her, though not roughly; Hannah easily complies, a smirk rising to her lips as they press very naturally to Chloe’s for a brief moment. Beca is left to watch the two in astonishment, a thousand questions suddenly running through her mind. She realizes that staring probably looks weird, though, so quietly clears her throat, before taking a small step back, and pushes a smile to her lips in response to Chloe’s once the two women have parted.

“Ready, Bec?”

“Yeah,” Beca nods, for some reason actively avoiding making eye contact with Hannah now. Chloe begins to lead the way to the door, and Beca scurries dutifully along behind her.

“See you again soon, Beca,” Hannah calls casually after her. While Beca turns to shoot her a polite smile over her shoulder, she doesn’t verbally respond.

Maybe she is just tired—she didn’t sleep very well last night, and today has been a long day—but Beca finds that she is overly confused as she makes her way back out to her car. It is decidedly much quieter outside of the bar, when it is just she and Chloe. The same cannot be said for the thoughts ticking loudly through Beca’s mind.

“So, what’d you think?” Chloe asks cheerfully. Beca doesn’t know what Chloe’s car looks like, therefore she has no idea she had parked directly beside her until she sees Chloe taking her keys from her pocket and pointing them at the next car over.

“To what?”

“The bar.”

“Oh,” Beca nods, “Yeah, it was cool. Thank you for bringing me.”

“Of course,” Chloe grins, tugging on the driver’s side handle and pulling open the door.

Beca does the same, and is about to slide into the seat until she hears the sound of Chloe’s voice pulling her attention.

“Hey, Beca?”

“Yeah?” Beca pauses, glancing toward her.

Chloe seems to think for a brief second, to contemplate something, before eventually shaking her head. “Nothing. Just...thank you. You know, for opening up to me earlier.”

“Oh, yeah,” Beca nods, half smile stretching onto her lips. Honestly, with the series of small yet confusing events to have taken place between her Markus story and now, Beca has almost forgotten it had even happened. “Sure.”

Chloe’s next smile is a genuine, kind one, something that Beca recognizes as very distinctly _Chloe_ , before she proceeds to climb into her car, tugging the door closed behind her.

Beca’s mind is working overtime as she makes the short journey back to her apartment. She has so many questions, there are so many things she is confused about, but as she enters the warmth of her new home and Murphy immediately prowls toward her to inspect the new scents she has carried in with her from the bar, she realizes she is too tired to really put much stock into them right now.

Fortunately, Beca has had the good sense to make her bed by now, so after quickly changing and brushing her teeth, she is able to peel back the comforter and climb beneath the sheets, head relaxing comfortably back into the plush pillows behind her.

Soon, the lights are off and the room is dark, but Beca hears the quiet tapping of Murphy’s paws as he hurries toward the bed, hopping up to make himself comfortable on top of her. “Come on, bud,” she chuckles quietly, able to see the cat’s faint silhouette as he digs around in the thick winter comforter covering her stomach.

Beca’s phone is laid, as it usually is, on the small table beside her. She hears it buzzing into the quiet of the room, sees the harsh, bright color of the screen lighting up from the corner of her eye. A part of her considers ignoring it—whoever is trying to reach her can wait until the morning. However, once again, curiosity gets the better of her, and Beca reaches over to see Chloe’s name displayed on her brightly lit up screen.

A brief moment of silent questioning precedes her answering the call.

“Chloe?”

“In Switzerland,” Chloe begins in a clear voice, “It is illegal to own just one guinea pig, because the poor, sweet babies are vulnerable to getting lonely.”

For a second, Beca wonders what is going on. It quickly registers to her, though, through the animation in Chloe’s tone, that she is reading something aloud. Beca cannot help the way her lips curve up into an amused smile as she sinks back comfortably into the pillows again, listening as Chloe continues.

“In 2008, the Swiss government passed an animal rights law which made it illegal for a pet owner to own just one guinea pig, no matter how much they might dote on their fluffy friend.”

“Wow,” Beca smirks into the darkness, teeth sinking gently into her bottom lip. Her chapstick tastes bitter against her tongue. “You really needed to know the whole story, huh?”

Beca can tell in the way Chloe responds that she is grinning, and already, she can picture the expression so clearly. “I did. I thought it was interesting, I wanted to know the rest. It makes sense, don’t you think? That law?”

By now, Murphy has finally found an acceptable spot to settle, and has curled up comfortably over Beca’s stomach. Beca is holding her phone to her ear with one hand, but reaches out the other to lazily brush her fingertips through the cat’s soft fur. “I guess so,” she shrugs, voice a little quieter, more in keeping with the stillness surrounding her.

“It does,” Chloe insists, her own volume slightly quieter now, too. Beca obviously cannot see Chloe, but she assumes she might also be in bed; sleep might also be beginning to consume her the same way it is Beca. “Everybody feels loneliness, and nobody deserves it. Nobody likes it.” She pauses briefly, perhaps mulling over her words. “Are you lonely, Beca?”

Beca’s shoulder shrugs gently, hooded eyes cast down on the cat’s familiar silhouette. “I have Murphy.”

“That’s good,” Chloe responds lazily. There is a muffled sound at the other end of the phone, and Beca thinks it is Chloe yawning. “Anyway, you should get some sleep. Like I said, you have work in the morning.”

“Don’t you?” Beca questions conversationally, almost like she doesn’t want to hang up the call yet.

“No, not tomorrow. Mom will be there, though. And so will Adam, so you won’t be on your own.”

“Oh,” Beca nods, the strange feeling of her sinking heart registering to her at the knowledge of being at the store without Chloe. Presumably, it is because Beca is still very new, and Chloe had been the one training her today, so she is going to feel a little out of her depth without her tomorrow.

“I’ll check in with you, though. Make sure you’re doing okay.”

Beca’s shoulders relax some in response. She hadn’t even realized they had tensed up beforehand. “Right,” she nods, “Well, I appreciate that.”

“Mhm,” Chloe hums. Her tone is familiarly light and breezy, despite how tired she sounds. Beca hears another small yawn, before a somewhat mumbled, “Goodnight then, Beca.”

There is a lazy smile stretching across Beca’s lips, though it is a very content one, too. All of her confusion, all of her questions, they are suddenly nowhere to be found, and Beca instead just softly nods her head into the darkness. “Night, Chloe.”

The sound of shuffling registers through the phone again, before Beca realizes the call has ended. She is left to stare, strangely contentedly, at a blank screen.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe continues to both surprise and not surprise Beca at all. Finally, she gets some answers to some of her questions. Not all, but some.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to Tyler (my Tyler, not Stanaland) for being the dorky inspo behind Adam!

Save for his name and main profile picture—he and Chloe in what looks like a nightclub of some kind, with Chloe’s lips, covered with a heavy coat of deep red lipstick, pressed in an overly exaggerated kiss to his cheek—there is really not much to see on Ryan West’s Facebook page. All in all, it is very much private.

Not that Beca is exactly _stalking_ or anything. In fact, she isn’t even looking for anything in particular. She is simply interested, that’s all. Beca is willing to bet that Chloe scrolled through her page when she first accepted her friend request, so it is not like her curiosity is anything out of the ordinary. Given the kind of person Chloe is, Beca can only assume that the man she chose to marry must have just as colorful a personality, so Beca is simply curious; she just wants to...well, to _see_.

Fortunately, Beca is not quite desperate enough to friend request him. Besides, if Ryan’s page is anything like Chloe’s, there probably wouldn’t be much to see even if Beca did have full access. She has done a little shameless scrolling through Chloe’s posts, but save for the odd meme and animal-related news story, most of her content is just shared from Lilacs For Lucy’s business page. It actually feels uncharacteristically private for Chloe, in fact.

Beca’s casual scrolling is done somewhat mindlessly during breakfast. She sits up on the kitchen counter, legs hanging comfortably over the side, and nibbles disinterestedly on a very plain bagel. It occurs to her that she should probably do some actual grocery shopping tomorrow; the few items her mother had brought over for her the day she’d moved in are not going to be enough to sustain her for much longer.

Normally, Murphy wants a bite of whatever Beca is eating, but even he turns his nose up at the stale bagel. While Beca frowns in response, she cannot say that she altogether blames him. “Not good enough for His Majesty, huh?” she mumbles regardless, eyes flickering lazily back toward her screen as Murphy begins to clean himself without grace on the counter beside her.

It has been less than a week since Beca made the trip from New Jersey to Rhode Island, but already, she finds that she is beginning to feel settled. Her new apartment may be on the smaller side, it may be very modestly decorated… And maybe Beca doesn’t know very many people yet—only further proven by the fact that she spends the duration of breakfast time talking to her cat—but Beca is content, and so far, she doesn’t hate her new job. Of course, it is only her second day there, but she chooses to take the fact that she didn’t immediately want to walk out of there yesterday as a positive sign. Even more so because she is not dreading going back today.

In spite of her somewhat confusing evening, Beca had slept much better last night than the one prior. In turn, she feels much more rested as she pulls on a work-appropriate outfit and ties her mousy hair back into a sleek ponytail. Beca cannot help but think, as she climbs into her car and begins the short drive to Lilacs For Lucy florist, that it will be strange to be at the flower shop today without Chloe. Already, she associates the place with her; Chloe is the owner, so it only makes sense. Alice is friendly, but so far, she has tended to keep to herself while working, so Beca is hopeful that her final co-worker, Adam, will make up for the lack of Chloe’s company for the day.

He is already there by the time Beca arrives. At least, there is a tall man with sandy hair and glasses standing behind the cash register, so unless Chloe or her mother are shapeshifters, she can really only assume.

“Hey,” Beca greets as cheerfully as possible for a Monday morning—she surprises herself with the fact that she does not have to force it. “You must be Adam, right? I’m Beca.”

“Right,” Adam responds just as cheerfully, flashing Beca a toothy grin. He pushes his dark-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose, hand instinctively stretching out to shake Beca’s; an action she automatically reciprocates. “Nice to meet you, Beca. I’m pretty sure I’m training you today… I don’t know, Chloe wasn’t very clear.” Adam chuckles shortly, evidently neither too concerned nor put out. Nor surprised, for that matter; Chloe does seem to flit around without giving completely clear direction. “She was just gushing about the new girl we hired.”

“Gushing?” Beca’s brow arches slightly, naturally amused expression overtaking her features. Adam responds with a brief shrug of his shoulder and a somewhat meek looking smile, so Beca shrugs the comment off, too. Like she has already thought on more than one occasion, Chloe is a very interesting person, Beca is learning that nothing she says should surprise her. After seeing her plant a very much non-platonic kiss to the bartender’s lips last night, she is sure nothing Chloe—who according to Facebook is very much married and very much not to Hannah the bartender—can _do_ will surprise her now, either.

Fortunately for Beca, Adam turns out to be incredibly friendly. He is funny, too. Totally nerdy, of course, but very funny, and Beca can tell already that she is going to get along with him well. He sort of reminds her of an old friend from her college days, in fact. Almost like a piece of home.

While the shop is still not exactly busy, they do get a little more custom today than they had yesterday. Adam shows Beca how to properly process online orders, which seem to come much more frequently than customers into the store. For a bigger company, Beca would expect a separate team to deal with the online stuff, but Lilacs For Lucy really is the small, family-owned business she had seen advertised on the initial job listing, so the four staff members are responsible for all aspects. It is not a bad thing; it means that there is always something to do, so the day goes by quickly. In fact, Beca doesn’t even realize it is already past noon until Alice tells her she should take her lunch break.

There is a small coffee shop across the street, the smell from which mingles with the floral scent of the flowers when both doors are open at just the right time. Beca has just exited the florist to head toward it when red hair flashes into her peripheral vision, with Beca turning to address her approaching boss with a bright grin.

“Hey. Wow, I see you decided to go for the PetSmart look today,” Beca teases gently, motioning toward Chloe’s neatly pressed uniform. “I thought you said you weren’t working today?”

“When did I say that?” Chloe questions, head tilting slightly. The loose strands of fiery hair that are not tucked into her neat ponytail bounce gently with the movement. “I said I wasn’t working this morning, and I wasn’t. My shift at the pet store starts soon, though. I just figured I’d stop by to see how you were doing first.”

There is something about that, about Chloe going out of her way to check on her, that makes Beca feel uncharacteristically warm inside. It makes a change from working for a big company where Beca was essentially just a number on a system; it is like she matters now, and there is something very humbling about it. That is not to say that Beca didn’t like her old job, of course; she did. There is just something different about this one, something she doesn’t hate about the small, tight-knit team she is newly a part of.

“Right,” Beca nods, tucking a fallen chunk of mousy hair behind her ear. “Well, I’m doing good. Adam is nice, and Alice- your mom has been really helpful.”

Chloe chuckles softly at that, reaching out a hand toward the side of Beca’s face. “You can call her Alice,” she clarifies, soft fingers brushing through Beca’s hair, the same chunk she had just pushed behind her ear herself. Beca eyes her curiously, but doesn’t move away nor shake her off. She watches the way Chloe studies her for a moment, before asking, “Where are your earrings?”

“Huh?”

“Your earrings,” Chloe repeats. “You were wearing them last night. I remember because I thought they looked really good on you. Why don’t you have them in now?”

“Oh…” Beca pauses, instinctively untucking her hair to cover her ear now that Chloe has drawn her hand back. “I didn’t know if they’d be inappropriate to wear for work. I took them out last night.”

“Why would they be inappropriate?” Chloe questions, head tilting slightly and brows knitting softly together. “You can wear them. Are you headed to Ground Up?”

And there she goes again, Beca thinks. Chloe, and her predictably unpredictable penchant for hopping from one subject and directly to another.

“Yeah,” Beca nods, attempting to overlook the mental whiplash. “I’m on break.”

Chloe responds with a short nod and a polite smile. “Can I join you?”

Beca’s immediate willingness to accept Chloe’s company is almost surprising to her. She is not the biggest social butterfly, and in fact kind of _needs_ time to herself occasionally, but she doesn’t mind the idea of Chloe’s company. It is strange and it is new to her, but again, she doesn’t mind it. Just like she doesn’t mind Chloe.

“Why do you do that?” Chloe asks curiously. Her voice breaks into the comfortable quiet that surrounds them, and Beca tilts her head in slight confusion.

“Do what?”

“Back then, you covered your ear after I asked about your earrings. When I told you you looked pretty the other day, you suddenly looked very unsure of yourself,” Chloe explains somewhat calculatedly, as if this is something she has considered already. Her lips twist into something of a frown. “You don’t take compliments very well, do you?”

While Chloe’s question does sort of come from left field, it is also not exactly anything new to Beca. She knows that it is something of an understatement, to say she doesn’t take compliments very well. Truthfully, she is kind of terrible at accepting them; she always has been. No one has ever actually pointed it out to her before, though. Then again, Chloe doesn’t hold back, Beca knows that about her already, so it is just another Chloe Beale thing that shouldn’t surprise her.

“Oh, yeah, no, I guess not,” Beca chuckles quietly, maybe even a little awkwardly.

Chloe simply nods her head in understanding, before pulling open the door to the coffee shop to usher Beca inside first. “You’re easy to compliment, Beca. You should try to learn to accept it.”

In all honesty, Beca doesn’t even know what that is supposed to mean. She’s easy to compliment? Regardless, save for the quizzical expression on her face, she chooses not to actually question it, and instead just briefly nods her head. “Noted.”

Apparently, this part of town dies on Sundays and springs back to life on Mondays, because yesterday, when Beca had been to Ground Up, there hadn’t been anybody else there. Today, however, she notes immediately that all of the tables are full, and there is a decent line stretching toward the door. If nothing else, at least it shows that they have good coffee.

“I guess we’re gonna be taking lunch to go,” Beca frowns, glancing toward Chloe in time to see her nodding her head.

“Well, I was going to anyway. I told you, my shift starts soon. You can eat in the office, though.”

It is not the first time Beca has experienced that sinking feeling when hearing Chloe won’t be joining her, and something about it makes her feel somewhat uneasy. She has never considered herself to be a clingy person of any kind—in fact, she would actually consider herself to be very much the opposite, very independent—but apparently she has already found some comfortable familiarity in Chloe, something she is insistent on holding onto. It is very foreign to her, truth be told. Beca really does not usually warm to people so easily.

Despite the fact that Beca thinks Chloe may be in something of a hurry to get to her job at the pet store, Chloe insists Beca order first. While Beca genuinely appreciates the chivalry, she places her order quickly, not wanting to delay Chloe further, and without even taking the chance to properly peruse the menu. The sandwich she lands on without real thought requires toasting, so Beca steps aside once she has paid to let Chloe get to the cashier.

“Have you tried one of those before?” Chloe questions conversationally once she has placed her own order. She slips easily toward Beca to wait for her coffee. “Those sandwiches.”

“Not from here,” Beca shakes her head, instinctively overthinking her decision. “Why? Are they not good?”

“Oh, no. They’re great,” Chloe promises, “You’re in for a treat.”

Again, Beca cannot help but take note of the way Chloe always has something to say. She always has something to input, some kind of comment to make. Then again, she is not complaining. Honestly, it works for Beca; it means she doesn’t have to endure awkward silences. She is finding out quickly that they are very few and far between when Chloe is around, in fact.

“Oh, wait, I almost forgot,” Chloe pipes up hurriedly, hand beginning to dig into her purse. “Hand me a napkin?”

While Beca wants to question why, she doesn’t. Like she had thought before, there is really no point in questioning anything Chloe does at this point. So, instead, she simply reaches for a napkin from the dispenser beside her, handing it over to Chloe. Chloe, producing a pen from inside of her purse, takes the napkin and quickly begins to scribble something down, before handing it back over to Beca.

“What is it?” Beca questions curiously, brows furrowing slightly as she glances downward. There is a phone number scrawled missily across the previously blank sheet.

“Hannah asked me to give it to you,” Chloe states plainly. “She asked if you were single, I told her you were. So, she asked me to give you her number. She wants to know if you want to go on a date with her.”

If Beca had been confused last night, when her married boss had leaned across the bar to tug Hannah the bartender in for an impromptu kiss, it is really nothing in comparison to how she feels now. Chloe evidently notices the questioning expression displayed very plainly across Beca’s features.

“I told her I didn’t know if you dated girls or not,” Chloe continues breezily. “But I guess you never know, huh? Do you?”

Beca is still trying to understand how Chloe has just given her the number of someone she kissed last night, something that seemed to be so casually done that Beca can only assume it is a regular occurrence for the two of them, so the question about her sexuality catches her off guard. It is not something a new friend—much less a new _boss_ —would normally ask about, but again, this is Chloe. Chloe isn’t...well, she isn’t a _normal_ , every day person. It is not necessarily a bad thing, not usually.

“Oh, uh…” Beca pauses, gaze flickering between the napkin displaying Hannah’s number and Chloe’s eager, expectant expression. “I mean, I never have, but I guess I wouldn’t be against it or anything.”

Chloe nods her head shortly, and it seems that she is pleased with the response. Her blue eyes suddenly glisten in a way that is becoming familiar to Beca by now. Her voice is almost sing-song sounding, like in middle school when someone developed a crush and their friends would act all silly and excited about it, wanting further details. “So, are you going to call her?”

It is a quicker reaction than intended, the way Beca immediately shakes her head. It is not like she has anything against Hannah, and while she hadn’t looked at her in _that_ way at the bar last night, she had of course noticed how attractive she was. But Chloe had kissed her, and the whole thing has Beca entirely confused. “No, I mean, weren’t—”

_“Uh, order for Becky?”_

The announcement cuts into her thought process, the one where she was about to question whether there is something going on between Chloe and Hannah, and Beca glances toward the cashier, gently biting down onto her tongue so as not to allow herself to correct him. It is just a name; in the grand scheme of things, it really is not worth the argument.

“Becky,” Chloe grins, pearly teeth nibbling softly down onto her lower lip. Beca notices she is bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet as Beca stretches across her to accept the bagged sandwich and to-go coffee cup. “Is that what people call you? Like a nickname?”

“No,” Beca frowns, her disdain for the name displayed very clearly across her pale face. “It’s already a nickname. It’s just Beca. I’m used to it, though.”

And just like that, just like it is _nothing_ , Chloe has once again so seamlessly changed the subject, and Beca has all but forgotten about the napkin in her hand.

* * *

Chloe does not stick around much longer. Once her order is called and she has accepted the drink, she says a brief goodbye to Beca, then hastily makes her way out of the coffee shop and across the street to her car.

It is only once she is back inside the florist that Beca even thinks of the napkin again.

“Was that Chloe?” Adam questions distractedly, glancing casually over Beca’s shoulder and toward the large storefront window. While all visual evidence of the car is now gone, the screeching sound of tires against the asphalt and loud rev of an engine sounds distinctly in the distance, and Adam shakes his head in what Beca perceives as playful disapproval. “Never mind, don’t answer that.”

Beca chuckles quietly, taking a brief glance behind her. It is almost as if she expects to see a cloud of dust left behind from Chloe’s overly fast departure. She is surprised when she doesn’t. “Does she always drive like that?”

Adam has gone back to neatly scrawling out handwritten price tags, but nods his head in fond amusement, his eyes down on the tags in concentration. “Drive, walk, talk… Chloe tends to be kind of fast-paced.”

“Right,” Beca laughs softly, head nodding in understanding. It is something she has already picked up on, after all. She noticed it that first day in PetSmart, in fact. “Well, is that how she always is?”

“Reckless?” It is clear that Adam isn’t paying much attention to what he is saying, and that his focus is mostly on writing up the new prices, because he seems to speak before he can stop himself. “She has been ever since Lucy.”

Beca’s head tilts gently, penciled brows tugging neatly together. “Lucy?”

Adam’s face crumples in something of a pained manner that shows he regrets speaking almost immediately.

It is not like Beca has not heard the name before; she knows where she works. But Adam’s reaction makes it seem as if he has just loudly yelled the most obscene curse word in the middle of his workplace. In fact, Beca thinks that, if she squints hard enough, she can see beads of sweat beginning to pool on his forehead.

While Adam opens his mouth to respond—or to backtrack, most likely—he is saved by the sound of the door opening beside them, followed by the well put together sight of Alice Beale making her way toward the cash register.

“Beca? You’re back early. Was Ground Up busy?” Alice asks conversationally. She sets the small pile of plain price tags in her hand neatly down in front of Adam.

“Yeah, it was,” Beca nods in response. “Chloe said I could just eat this in the office.” She lifts the brown paper bag containing her hot sandwich for Alice to see, shaking it gently in view.

“Chloe stopped by?” Alice’s gray brow quirks, intrigued. “Did she say why?”

It is that question that finally pulls the crumpled napkin to the forefront of Beca’s mind again. However, she chooses not to mention it, and despite the fact that neither Alice nor Adam have had the chance to notice it—nor cared to, for that matter—Beca finds herself squeezing it a little more tightly, making sure it is fully blocked from anybody’s view.

“Oh, just to see how I was doing without her,” Beca finally shrugs nonchalantly, only mentally adding in: _and to ask me out for someone she kissed last night. Did you know she’s cheating on her husband, by the way?_

There is a pleasant, almost proud smile drawing itself onto Alice’s lips in response, the kind that tells Beca she is silently congratulating herself for raising such a polite, thoughtful individual. “Well, that was kind of her. Go ahead into the office, Beca. I’ll be out here a while longer, so feel free to put on some music.”

Although it is fair to say that her boss is definitely something of an enigma, Beca has decided already that she really does like her new work team. As gregarious as Chloe may be, she is nice, and Beca finds that she likes being in her company. She likes it a lot, in fact. Both Adam and Alice are total sweethearts, too. So, Beca is happy with the way things are working out so far—save for the number on the napkin, though Beca decides she should stop questioning that, and stuffs it quickly into her pocket. It seems more polite than tossing it into the small wastebasket for Chloe to potentially find; she will dispose of it once she is home.

However, once Beca does arrive home at the end of her shift, she cannot help but notice the way she has very much _not_ stopped questioning it, at least mentally. The whole situation is just weird to her. Beca has affectionate friends, the kind who sometimes drop a very platonic departing kiss to the others’ cheek in passing, but the way Chloe and Hannah had kissed? That was decidedly not a platonic act. Perhaps Chloe and Ryan’s marriage is an open one? But, even so, surely that does not mean every person in this town lives a polyamorous lifestyle.

It really should not be this big of a deal. In fact, it’s _not_ a big deal, certainly not the one Beca is internally making it into. Regardless, she cannot help her curiosity, so as she pulls the crumpled napkin containing Hannah’s number from her pants pocket and slips her phone from the small purse hung over her body, Beca decides she would like some answers.

As planned, the napkin goes directly into the overflowing trash can in the kitchen—Beca mentally reminds herself to empty it later—and the message she begins to type onto her now unlocked screen is sent to Chloe, not to Hannah.

_Hey_ , she types somewhat slowly, lips twisting into a small frown as she mulls over her words. Murphy has hopped up gracefully onto the countertop, making his presence known with a loud purr as he gently nudges Beca’s free hand. She begins to pet him behind the ears, the other thumb still tapping at her screen.

_Look, this is probably none of my business, but aren’t you and Hannah… Something?  
Why is she asking me out?_

Beca hits send on each message before she gets the chance to question herself, though begins typing again immediately afterwards:

_In fact, aren’t you married?  
Like I said, it’s none of my business. I guess I’m just confused_

While Beca stares at she and Chloe’s iMessage thread for a moment, a part of her waiting for the typing bubble to pop up immediately, she eventually locks her screen. Chloe is working, and is likely not allowed her phone while dealing with customers. PetSmart is much more official an institution than Lilacs For Lucy, after all.

However, once Chloe’s response _does_ come through a few hours later, with Beca now changed into an old pair of leggings and a comfortable, loose-fitting shirt, it is definitely not the one she had been anticipating.

**Chloe  
** _Do you like pizza?_

For a long moment, Beca just stares at her screen in bewilderment. Sure, Chloe is kind of...random, but what does _pizza_ have to do with anything? Her nose wrinkles in thought, but before she even has the chance to type up a response, one likely something along the lines of asking Chloe what the hell she is talking about, she is interrupted by the sound of a loud knock at the front door. It causes Murphy to bolt instinctively for the bedroom, where he will probably hide out safely under the bed.

“You can just come in, you don’t have to knock,” Beca calls distractedly toward the door. Presumably, it will be her mother; nobody else around here knows her yet—she has not exactly been inundated with visitors so far.

“Is cheese okay?”

The voice, entirely familiar to her already, stops Beca’s heart momentarily.

Chloe closes the door carefully behind her with her foot, large pizza box balanced in one hand. In turn, the look of confusion on Beca’s face only intensifies tenfold. “What are you…”

“Thought you might be hungry,” Chloe shrugs nonchalantly. It doesn’t surprise Beca in the least, the way Chloe invites herself to make herself at home. She sets the pizza box down on the kitchen counter, then begins rummaging through the cupboards, likely in search of plates. Beca silently wishes she had made good on her earlier promise to herself to take out the overflowing trash.

Despite the time, Beca has not actually eaten yet. But that is really not the most pressing issue, and she finds herself shaking her head quickly in response.

“Wait, how do you know where I live?” Beca asks, admittedly a little dumbly.

“You work for me,” Chloe hums casually over her shoulder, still digging around in the sparse cupboards. “You literally gave me your information, like, three days ago.”

“Okay…” Beca nods her head slowly, arms folding almost defiantly across her middle. Apparently, she is not the only one to notice just how soothing Chloe’s voice is, because where Murphy would normally hide out for at least the next hour or so, he cautiously makes his way back into the living room to inspect their uninvited guest. It is unlikely that he remembers her from the pet store… Right? “So, we’ll put the privacy invasion aside for a second. Why are you here?”

“How am I invading your privacy?” Chloe chuckles softly, light amusement lacing her tone. She has finally found the correct cupboard, and retrieves two matching plates to set down on the countertop beside the unopened pizza box. “I didn’t break in in the middle of the night or anything.”

An uneasy feeling washes over Beca at that; the thought that Chloe doing something like breaking in in the middle of the night is probably not _too_ far-fetched. In fact, it is likely something she would feel comfortable enough to do, if she felt it necessary. Chloe doesn’t really understand boundaries, Beca is very quickly realizing.

“I can’t eat all of this pizza by myself, so here,” Chloe explains nonchalantly, motioning toward the box. She reaches out to pull up the lid, the inviting aroma of pizza grease and perfectly melted cheese hitting Beca’s nostrils immediately. Her stomach makes an unflatteringly loud growling sound in response. “We can share.”

Whether he really does recognize Chloe from his one brief interaction with her through the mesh door of his cat carrier or not, Murphy dares himself to approach Chloe as she makes her way without invitation toward the couch, two slices of pizza now resting on her large plate. It is likely the food that has tempted him in, not Chloe, but whatever.

“Oh, hi Murphy!” Chloe chirps brightly, leaning down to begin petting the cat between the ears. He flinches briefly, but soon gives in, his head rubbing needily against Chloe’s fingertips. “How are you liking your new house? It’s nice, huh?”

What was that Beca had thought earlier, about Chloe being an enigma?

While a part of her almost wonders whether or not she should decline the pizza, Beca’s stomach growls loudly again, and she decides that there is only a very slim chance that Chloe is trying to poison her. So, somewhat begrudgingly, she reaches for the remaining plate and grabs a couple slices.

“What if I didn’t like pizza?” Beca grumbles, really just to be petulant. She is still entirely confused by Chloe’s presence, and honestly a little annoyed by the way she had outright ignored her questions earlier—good, valid questions, in Beca’s opinion. Regardless, she picks up her plate and carries it cautiously toward the couch, perching herself down on the opposite end.

Chloe only shrugs, and quickly takes a small bite from the slice in her hand.

It is only a small couch, there really isn’t much space between them, but Murphy hops up to fill it regardless. Immediately, he begins inspecting Beca’s plate, his button nose twitching wildly.

Almost as if she is daring herself to ask the question, Beca speaks somewhat slowly. “Couldn’t you have shared this with your husband?”

It is a good segue into prompting Chloe to answer her previous questions, Beca thinks. So, despite the fact that she feels a little weird asking, like she is realizing that it really is not her place, she decides not to try to backtrack like she usually would. Instead, she watches Chloe expectantly, trying to gauge her expression.

Chloe simply chuckles quietly in response, chewing thoughtfully on the bite of pizza in her mouth.

“I wasn’t, like, stalking or anything…” Beca feels the need to explain. “I just saw it on your Facebook, the fact that you’re married.”

“Right,” Chloe finally nods, swallowing the bite in her mouth. She licks the pizza grease from her lips, then breaks off a small piece of melted cheese from the slice in front of her, holding it toward Murphy. “Can he have some?”

Although Beca nods, she does not verbally respond. She is waiting for Chloe to go on, and is prepared to prompt her again if she doesn't circle back somehow.

“My husband is dead,” Chloe states so breezily that it seems like such an ordinary, every day statement; like she is simply saying hello or politely discussing the weather. As regular and natural as it seems to Chloe, however, the information causes a sharp shiver to shoot throughout Beca’s body, and she is sure that her brows have jumped so far upward that they have somehow gotten lost in her hairline.

“What?” is all she can say, again somewhat dumbly.

“Mhm,” Chloe nods, allowing Murphy to nibble the cheese from her hand. “Car accident.”

Beca doesn’t know how to respond. Instead, she just stares with a slightly slackened jaw. Chloe isn’t looking at her, she is still focusing on Murphy, but it is clear she has received this reaction before. Probably countless times, in fact. So, she continues just as nonchalantly.

“It’s fine. I mean, it’s not fine, but it is what it is, you know?” Chloe shrugs a shoulder gently, finally bringing her gaze up toward Beca. “Do you like the pizza? It’s from my favorite place.”

Beca is still trying to digest the information, something she hadn’t even considered an option before, so the food is the very last thing on her mind. “Chloe…” she begins slowly, her voice filled with an unfamiliar amount of sorrow.

“Beca,” Chloe responds, gaze now fixed on Beca. Her words are spoken a little more forcefully this time. “It’s fine.”

There is a part of Beca, a very strong part of her, in fact, that wants to press. She does not know Ryan West, has never encountered him in her life, but a part of her feels like crying—not necessarily for him, but for Chloe. Suddenly, she feels incredibly guilty, both for judging Chloe so quickly, and for immediately assuming she was cheating on her husband at the bar last night.

The news certainly answers a lot of questions, but it seems that Chloe doesn’t want to talk about it. And Beca is not going to push. Death is a sensitive subject, it is not one Beca has, fortunately, ever had to deal too closely with—Beca still has all of her grandparents, she has never lost anybody close to her, not like that. So, she is no expert, and cannot try to understand Chloe’s feelings. Therefore, if Chloe wants her to just let it go, she will.

She’ll try, anyway.

“I’m also not dating Hannah,” Chloe adds casually, scooping up the remainder of her pizza slice. “She’s been a really good friend to me, and sometimes we hook up, but it’s nothing romantic. Just kind of, you know,” Chloe waves a hand dismissively, “Fills a void.”

That answers more questions. Though, Beca still does not know exactly how to respond, so again, she just nods her head lamely. Her tongue flickers out to lick over her lips, and Beca glances down briefly at the food on her plate, realizing she is yet to even touch it.

“How was your day at the shop?” Chloe asks, evidently eager to change the subject. There is no real hurry to her question, though; she speaks just as breezily as ever, and Beca finds that, somehow, she is beginning to understand Chloe Beale a little better.

It takes a moment for Beca to pull herself back to the present, back from the shock of hearing about the loss of a person she has never even met, but that seems to shake her entirely regardless. “Uh, it was okay,” she finally responds, tearing her somewhat startled gaze from Chloe—it hadn’t occurred to her that she had even begun to stare, not until Chloe’s eyes eventually meet her own. In turn, Beca finds herself glancing down at her plate again quickly. This time, she picks up a slice of pizza, though she isn’t sure whether it is because she actually wants to eat it, or if it is just something of a distraction for her. “Adam’s cool. We took a ton of online orders, I guess people are preparing early for Valentine’s Day.”

Chloe nods her head in understanding, fond expression settling onto her face. “Right. People go crazy for Valentine’s. It’s sweet, it’s one of my favorite holidays.”

Beca refrains from making a comment about how it is _not_ a holiday, and from asking the more burning question: _even without your husband?_ All things considered, the conversation now feels entirely arbitrary, but to mention Ryan is still not Beca’s place.

Almost like Chloe has just realized something important, Beca notes a look of concern glistening in now familiar blue eyes. “Oh,” Chloe begins, a pearly tooth sinking into her lower lip. “I guess it’s going to suck for you this year, huh? The first one without Markus?”

Chloe is the one with the dead husband; Beca had simply broken up with her boyfriend—amicably, too. If anybody should be concerned for the other, surely it should be Beca for Chloe. Then again, already, Beca can tell that it is very much like Chloe to put others before herself. Chloe has many positive qualities that Beca has picked up on so far, and her genuine empathy is very much one of them.

“No, it’s okay,” Beca promises almost a little too quickly. Because it is, it’s fine. As demonstrated by Chloe, the circumstances could be much, _much_ worse. Besides, Beca has never very much cared for Valentine’s Day. All it means is overpriced candy and some kind of societal pressure to fight for a reservation at an overpriced restaurant with mediocre food. “We never really celebrated it, anyway.”

For the first time this evening, Chloe looks genuinely devastated. It surprises Beca, all things considered. Then again, maybe it shouldn’t. Nothing about Chloe should surprise Beca anymore, that is something she has thought on numerous occasions before now.

“You didn’t? That’s sad, I’m sorry to hear that,” Chloe pouts. Beca notes a genuine look of sadness in her piercing eyes, however, she seems to perk up quickly. “It’s okay, though. This year, you’ll be surrounded by flowers and Valentine’s joy. I’m sure you’ll think differently of it when you see all of the love around you.”

While Beca is positive that she will not, and is in fact kind of dreading the occasion, she chooses not to say so. Instead, she pushes a weak smile to her lips, largely just to appease Chloe, and shortly nods her head.

“And you’ll be with me,” Chloe adds excitedly, “I never miss working Valentine’s Day.”

Although, initially, she had been thrown off by Chloe’s surprise visit, as the evening progresses, Beca finds that she is grateful for the company. No, she really does not mind being alone, doesn’t hate it when it is just she and Murphy, but having Chloe around is admittedly refreshing. In fact, once they are done with their pizza, Beca realizes that, for one reason or another, she really does not want Chloe to leave.

“Are you excited for a day off tomorrow?” Chloe asks conversationally as Beca stands to carry their empty plates over to the dishwasher. Beca wonders if she is about to up and leave, but instead, Chloe finally unzips her PetSmart jacket. She proceeds to shrug it off and to make herself comfortable with her feet tucked neatly beneath her body on the couch, and Beca notes a feeling akin to relief washing throughout her.

“Not really,” Beca shrugs a shoulder, still able to easily interact with Chloe from the kitchen. When she’d first picked out the apartment, Beca had hated the way the kitchen and living area were essentially all in one, but she finds that she kind of likes it now. She likes that she can go about her business while still conversing casually with her new...friend? Beca is still unsure where she and Chloe stand in that respect. “I mean, I probably won’t really get much of a break. I’ll probably work on some music.”

“That sounds fun,” Chloe comments genuinely, stretching out an arm to retrieve the channel changer from the small coffee table. It is already in her hand and pointed toward the television before she has even asked the question. “Can I turn on the TV?”

“Sure,” Beca nods, grabbing a couple water bottles from the fridge, before making her way toward the couch again. Normally, she would offer her guest coffee, but it seems a little late for caffeine now. Time seems to have passed by quickly, strangely enough. “Is there something you want to watch?”

“Nope,” Chloe shrugs, accepting the water bottle with a polite smile. “Just gonna channel surf.”

In spite of herself, of all of her usual instincts, as Beca takes her seat back on the couch, she cannot help the way her lips tug up into a very small, yet very amused smile. There is something incredibly endearing about the way Chloe has just made herself so at home. Generally, it is probably something Beca would be kind of put off by, but for some reason, she finds that she is not. With Chloe, she’s not. It is quite the opposite, in fact.

Chloe lets out a small yawn as she flicks absentmindedly through the channels, and Beca tilts her head as she studies her in thought.

“Do you ever get a day off?” Beca asks with an arched brow, tone curious. “I mean, between the shop and PetSmart, you must be pretty busy, huh?”

“Not really,” Chloe shakes her head. “I like it that way, though. I like having something to do.”

Taking her earlier bombshell into consideration, Beca can understand her response a little better now; with a dead husband, and a house likely filled with memories, it makes sense that Chloe would want to keep her time as occupied as possible. Beca cannot help but admire her for doing so, in fact. She is sure that, if she were in Chloe’s position, she would resign herself to a lifetime spent in bed. Where Chloe conjures her day to day energy from is truly a mystery, but more power to her, Beca figures.

This shouldn’t still be rolling over in Beca’s mind the way it is, especially because Chloe had wanted to change the subject before. So, it is perhaps a little unfair of Beca to ask the question she does, but it sort of just...comes out. When it does, Beca barely recognizes the quiet volume of her own voice.

“When did he die?”

There is a short silence to follow. It is not awkward so much as thoughtful, but if Chloe was to get up and walk out, or to tell Beca to mind her business, Beca truly would not blame her. She feels like a total jerk for even bringing up the topic again, but it is out there now, and she can’t take it back. Not fully, anyway. “You don’t have to tell me,” she adds meekly.

“No,” Chloe shakes her head softly. The loose strands of hair not held back by her neat ponytail move gently, and Beca finds herself almost fixating on them momentarily. Chloe has decided on a channel, though the volume is pretty quiet, and Beca isn’t sure whether Chloe even knows exactly what is playing. Blue eyes fix on Beca, rather than on the screen, and Beca understands the sadness in them now; it is the same one she had noticed in the bar last night. “It’s okay. Almost two years ago now,” Chloe explains, tongue flickering out to lick over her dry lips. “We were coming home from the beach, and it just...I don’t know. Happened.”

When Chloe had initially told her, Beca had still been too focused on trying to process the fact that her husband had died to really take in the car accident addition. It had not even had the chance to occur to her that Chloe could’ve been in the car, too. Beca stares with wide, sad eyes as she processes the information. Almost as if she can read her mind, Chloe offers her a weak smile in response.

“I was fine,” Chloe continues in a somewhat quieter voice. “The truck hit his side. The impact knocked me out for a little bit, but I woke up with a broken wrist and a few scratches here and there. Ryan was luckier,” she shrugs softly, “He didn’t wake up.”

_Luckier_? Beca pauses momentarily, though she decides Chloe must have simply misspoken. She can understand it, after all. Besides, the information, coupled with the pain behind Chloe’s eyes, honestly breaks Beca’s heart. In fact, she is surprised neither of them can hear it splitting right down the middle. She swallows thickly, wanting to say something, anything, to help the situation in some way. But, ultimately, she doesn’t know how.

“Chloe, I’m sorry,” Beca finally decides on, her soft volume matching Chloe’s. There is something of a quiver to her whispered voice. “I don’t know what to say. I shouldn’t have even asked.”

“Hey, no,” Chloe pipes up quickly, scooting a little closer toward her. In spite of the fact that Chloe is the widow here, telling the tragic story of her husband’s untimely passing, she seems to care more about protecting Beca’s feelings, and it really should not surprise Beca; it is the same way as it does not surprise her when a soft hand reaches forward to settle comfortingly on top of her own. Despite the fact that Beca glances down toward it briefly, she does not shrug Chloe off. “I get it. Besides, you opened up to me at the bar last night, right? About Markus.” She offers Beca a weak yet somehow encouraging smile. “It’s only right that I let you in, too.”

Their circumstances are not just different, they are _wildly_ different. However, there really is something so comforting about Chloe’s mere presence, about the fact that her fingers are slipping through the small part between Beca’s, that rather than object, has Beca simply nodding her head. It doesn’t really occur to her that she and Chloe are literally sitting here holding hands, not until she feels the soft pad of Chloe’s thumb brushing over the back of her knuckles. Again, Beca doesn’t pull away.

“Well, thank you,” Beca finally says in a quiet voice, her own weak smile mirroring Chloe’s. “For opening up to me, too.”

Chloe gently nods her head in response, and Beca forces herself to ignore the fact that she swears she sees Chloe’s gaze drift downward for the briefest moment, in the general direction of her mouth. It is only the smallest flicker of her eyes, but still, it causes Beca’s heart to race in an unfamiliar way. The soft squeeze of Chloe’s hand onto her own is what ultimately calms her, before their grasps eventually loosen.

There is a weightless feeling left behind by Chloe’s now retracted hand. Beca tries hard not to think about the way she somehow misses it.

“You know, you should really give Hannah a chance,” Chloe says into the silence. Her volume has evened out again by now, and whatever had begun to loom thickly in the still air between them has suddenly passed. It causes Beca that familiar feeling of mental whiplash all over again. While she tilts her head slightly in silent questioning, Chloe simply chuckles, finally taking a sip from her water bottle. “She’s really sweet.”

It seems that Beca’s entire mouth has suddenly grown very dry, so she untwists the cap from her own bottle, in turn taking a long sip. “Yeah, I’m sure she is,” she finally says, lowering the bottle down toward her lap. “I don’t know, I just...I don’t think I’m really there yet,” she shrugs. Beca cannot help but mentally compare she and Chloe’s situations, and it makes her feel kind of pathetic.

Chloe, evidently, does not agree. “I understand.”

Likely to go and at least attempt to dig his way into the closed pizza box, Murphy had disappeared for a little while. It is like he just _knows_ there are still a few slices left in there, and if Beca and Chloe are not going to eat them, then why shouldn’t he be allowed? Evidently, he has been beaten by the intricate mechanism that is the pizza box’s large lid, and prowls indignantly toward the couch, hopping up into the gap between the two women, the gap that their joined hands had previously been occupying.

“Alright,” Chloe chuckles quietly, “I think that’s a sign.” Her free hand stretches out to scratch her fingers softly behind Murphy’s ears. He seems very pleased by this, given the way his eyes close and his neck stretches toward Chloe. The sight causes Beca to laugh softly. “I should really get home to Cupcake, she’s gonna be super mad at me for leaving her home alone all day.”

“Yeah,” Beca nods, forcefully ignoring the distinct feeling of her heart dropping at the announcement of Chloe’s departure. She wishes she could explain it, but she can’t. “Does Cupcake like other cats?”

“She’s great with them,” Chloe responds, pushing herself easily up from the couch. “We actually used to have another one. She ran away and we never saw her again,” she frowns, retrieving her jacket from the arm of the couch beside her. She begins to shrug it back on, glancing toward Beca, expression turning playful. “Why? Are you thinking we should set up a playdate?”

Beca chuckles in response, shoulder shrugging gently. “Something like that. Murphy’s fine with other cats, too. You should bring her over, next time you’re here.”

“Oh, I’m invited back?” Chloe grins almost mischievously, fingers fumbling with her zipper.

“You weren’t invited here this time,” Beca points out, though her tone is much lighter than it had been when Chloe had first arrived unexpectedly. There is a subtle look of amusement displayed on her makeupless features. “I can’t stop you from just showing up again.”

“True,” Chloe agrees, lighter expression mirroring Beca’s. She motions toward the pizza box on the kitchen counter. “I’ll leave the rest of the pizza for you. I mean, unless you want me to get rid of the box…” Her eyes glisten with that same level of mischief, “And the rest of your trash.”

Beca cannot help the soft whine that falls from her lips in response, head falling back and eyes fluttering shut momentarily. Chloe responds with a light giggle, the kind that Beca cannot help but find somehow contagious. “I was going to take it out before you got here, I really was.”

“I’m teasing,” Chloe promises in fond amusement. “You really can have the rest of the pizza, though. Cold pizza for breakfast is always great.”

Rather than insist Chloe takes it for herself, Beca finally nods her head, following along dutifully behind Chloe as she heads for the door.

“So, where are you working tomorrow?” Beca questions conversationally. She pauses to grab the trash bag in passing, heaving it along with her toward the now open door. “Flower shop or pet store?”

“Flower shop,” Chloe responds, holding open the door for Beca and her trash bag to exit. Helpfully, she keeps hold of the door and an eye on Murphy as Beca disposes of the bag, then pads back over toward her with her bare feet tapping against the floor. “Will I be seeing you?”

“It’s my day off,” Beca reminds her with a raised brow, taking over from Chloe at the door. Chloe begins to depart, reaching her hand into her purse in search of her car key.

“So?” Chloe shrugs, playful smirk shooting Beca’s way. “You saw me there today. It was my day off.”

Although Beca doesn’t respond verbally, she finds that her smirk into the silence that follows mirrors Chloe’s, until eventually she shrugs a shoulder. Chloe takes it as response enough, and chuckles quietly to herself as she points her key toward her car, automatically unlocking the door.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow, Beca?” Chloe says as she pulls open the driver’s side door—it is presented half as a question, half as a statement, and again, Beca cannot help but find Chloe’s level of unwavering confidence endearing. As she slips into the seat, Beca takes note of the way Chloe’s lingering stare pulls her in. She doesn’t even realize she is still smiling a very natural, comfortable smile as she takes a step into the house, closing the door gently behind her, without giving Chloe any kind of definitive answer.

They probably both already know it, anyway.

While Chloe’s visit had been appreciated in the end, Beca does not want any more unexpected visitors tonight. So, she proceeds to quickly lock the door as she listens to the sound of Chloe’s engine starting up, then of her car pulling away and onto the road.

Almost as if she had blacked out for a while there, Beca finally takes the time to reflect on her evening, on Chloe’s impromptu visit. It had certainly answered a lot of questions, Beca thinks as she makes her way over to the couch to grab the remote and turn off the TV. It is much later than she had realized; she decides that it is bedtime.

One question, however, that Beca had not gotten an answer to, nor had she even bothered to ask about, nags loudly in the back of her mind as she carefully scoops up Murphy and heads toward the bedroom. It begins to creep its way to the forefront, right where it had been earlier. Beca finds that there is a deep frown on her face as it replays over in her mind on something of a loop, the nagging only intensifying the harder she thinks:

Seriously, _who_ is Lucy?


End file.
